Fierce Reads
Page 16
I smile; it’s my turn to flush deep red. “I’d like that.” The future flashes, white-hot and urgent, a fresh possibility needling its way in. No. Not now. I cling to the simplicity and innocence of the moment and refuse to foresee what is about to happen to us. Instead I ask him: “What is your mission?”
He finishes tying off his snow boots. “We’re hunting a scientist who tried to defect.”
Then the future plows into me, now, too leaden to ignore. It’s gone as fast as it came, but the threat is unmistakable—a white as vast as the tundra, as biting, as scouring and cold. I lean back with a gasp. No, no, no, the word clings to my lips, but I can’t speak it, I can’t let on. This future can’t be true.
Ivan’s forehead wrinkles up. “Lara? What’s the matter?”
I search for the possibility again, but it’s evaded my grasp and slipped off into forever. Maybe it was only a remote chance; so far away, there’s plenty of time to change it. I tighten my grip around Ivan’s knee and force myself to focus, to ask the right question. Will Ivan return from his mission tonight?
The answer is as vivid as his kiss. Yes. He’ll walk through that door, perhaps with some minor success, perhaps not, but he’ll return.
“It was nothing.” I pat his cheek. “Not flesh, nor feathers.”
He smiles and stands. “Go to hell.”
Nothing is set in stone. Futures dart like fish in the depths of time, and some can escape us forever. The future is malleable. Even atomic winters can thaw, with the right choices.
As I watch Ivan leave, I promise myself I’ll cherish the present, the firm sofa beneath me and the scratch of cheap wool. The scent of boy that lingers on my hands. We could have lost it all, just a few short weeks ago. Maybe, just maybe, I can keep us from losing again.
BROKEN HEARTS, FENCES, AND OTHER THINGS TO MEND
DELETED SCENES
Katie Finn
BY KATIE FINN
~ The Broken Hearts & Revenge Series ~
Broken Hearts, Fences, and Other Things to Mend
Revenge, Ice Cream, and Other Things Best Served Cold
Hearts, Fingers, and Other Things to Cross
Meet Katie Finn
Volunteering for Things You’re Unqualified For! Or, How I Became a Writer
Back in the long-ago days of 2007 (like a lifetime ago, right? We had electricity, but that was about it. Tumblr didn’t exist. Nobody used emojis or said “yolo.” It was the dark ages, truly), I was working in YA publishing as an assistant. It was my first real job, like, one with a salary and a desk and nobody asking me to put their dressing on the side. Since this was 2007, MySpace was still a thing (see how long ago this was?) and my boss wanted to know what the “MySpace book” would look like. I had been working on some mostly terrible book ideas—like one about the lives and loves of teenage ambulance drivers called Sirens (egad)—but none had gone anywhere. (In retrospect, this was not at all surprising.) So when my boss mentioned this book idea, I immediately volunteered to write it, despite having no idea what a MySpace book would look like, and having never actually finished writing a book before. My last effort had been a terrible five-hundred-page attempt with no plot.
But as I sat down to work, I found that I was greatly helped by a deadline. My publishing house had given me an advance, half of what I would get paid, and I had used it for my astronomical Brooklyn rent. If I didn’t finish the book, they would take it back—and I’d already spent it! It also helped that while I had a germ of an idea, the rest of it was mine to play with. I had no guidelines beyond “something about the Internet,” which might explain how I turned the book into an Agatha Christie–style whodunit about a hacked account that was later called Top 8. It became a series, I went on to write two sequels, and I had a blast doing it.
I think if there’s any advice from this I could pass on, it’s that you should always volunteer for something, even if you don’t know you can do it. You can figure it out once you’re doing it.
Oh, and never write a book about teenage ambulance drivers.
Revenge Inspiration. Revengespiration? Inspirevenge!
I had a great time writing my Internet trilogy, but after I finished I was ready for a change—and a challenge. Those books were a lot of fun, but even though I put my heroine through the ringer, I never really doubted that everything would work out for her in the end. I was really interested in the idea of a book where a happy ending wasn’t nearly so assured.
But the absolute worst way to try and think of an idea is to tell yourself, “Hey! It’s idea-thinking time now. Go.” But I didn’t know that then, so I was trying really, really hard—always a mistake—to come up with new ideas. I knew it was time to give up when I started thinking about those teenage ambulance drivers, and wondering whether that idea—now five years old—had really been so terrible after all. (Short answer: yes.) So finally I decided to give up for a while, and was watching a lot of TV while feeling guilty for being a not-writing, no-idea-having writer. At one point, I was scrolling through shows, looking for something to watch … and ended up devouring the entire first season of the show Revenge in a day and a half. Suddenly, it was like all the idea circuits in my brain started lighting up again. Now I wanted nothing more than to write a revenge book. I pitched my idea to my agent, who was … lukewarm about it. When I described it to her, it was a straightforward revenge story—a girl tries to get revenge on the girl who ruined her life when she was eleven. But my agent felt like she’d seen this story before. So I thought about it, and while I was thinking about it, came up with the title Revenge, Ice Cream, and Other Things Best Served Cold. I liked the construction of that so much, I started playing around with other titles, and hit upon Broken Hearts, Fences, and Other Things to Mend. I didn’t even know what it meant, really, but I liked it. Someone had a broken heart … someone had a fence to mend … and like that, I had my idea. It would be a reverse revenge story. The girl who’d wrecked someone else’s life would try to make things right, years later. And just like that—after despair and soul searching and lots of TV watching—a series was born.
The Series
The Broken Hearts & Revenge series is three books: Broken Hearts, Fences, and Other Things to Mend (book 1); Revenge, Ice Cream, and Other Things Best Served Cold (book 2); and Hearts, Fingers, and Other Things to Cross (book 3). The heroine of these books is Gemma Tucker. Gemma’s been dating her totally perfect, do-gooder class-president boyfriend, Teddy, for the last two years. But then he dumps her unexpectedly in a Target (while she’s wearing what in hindsight was a terrible outfit choice of red shirt and khakis), turning her world upside down. Since she and Teddy had planned to go on a volunteer trip over the summer, Gemma finds herself at a loose end. She ends up going to the Hamptons to spend the summer with her screenwriter father, but she’s dreading it. Not only is she nursing her broken heart, but the last time she was in the Hamptons—five years earlier—she wrecked the life of her then–best friend, Hallie. When she bumps into Hallie—and her incredibly cute brother Josh—a small case of mistaken identity ensues. Hallie thinks that Gemma is actually Gemma’s best friend, Sophie, and Gemma realizes this could be her chance to make things right with Hallie. But as mishaps and hijinks—and a growing crush on Josh—start to take over the summer, Gemma wonders whether she can make things right before her secret comes out … or whether it’s already too late. The first book ends with a twist, and the second book in the series picks up twelve hours after the first one ends. It’s impossible to go into details of books 2 and 3 without spoiling book 1, but trust me when I tell you that in book 2, things in the Hamptons are more dramatic—not to mention funny and heartbreaking—than ever.
Very Necessary and Important Deleted Scenes
So I wrote the first draft of Broken Hearts, Fences, and Other Things to Mend, turned it in to my editor with a song in my heart (if memory serves, it was by Taylor Swift) and went about my day. It happens to me every time I write a book, but I was dismayed to find,
a few weeks later, that not only did she have (brilliant and sensible) ideas about how to make the book better … she claimed it was too long (it was). I agreed that it was maybe too long, but her solution for fixing this was to delete scenes. Some of which were my favorites! Some of which I loved! But of course, she was right. We went back and forth, talking about which scenes absolutely needed to be in to keep the story moving forward, and how to make everything as clear as possible. There’s also an element of mystery to the book, so we were also very aware of making sure we didn’t reveal too much. Because my editor is smart and wise and I had waaaay more scenes than necessary in which not much happened except people ate pizza (these scenes were usually written just before dinner), a lot of scenes ended up being deleted. But I still like them (obviously more than my editor, at any rate) and I thought it would be fun to provide a look-behind-the-curtain and show you scenes from Broken Hearts, Fences, and Other Things to Mend that almost were … but didn’t quite make the cut. A small description will precede each one, along with a little bit of info about how it fits into the story. Enjoy these previously unseen (except by my editor) scenes from Broken Hearts, Fences, and Other Things to Mend.
BROKEN HEARTS, FENCES, AND OTHER THINGS TO MEND
DELETED SCENES
by Katie Finn
#1—THE CARNIVAL
There had originally been a subplot where a charity carnival is set up in Quonset. Gemma, Hallie, and Josh attend, and things start going wrong for Gemma right away—she can’t win at any of the games, she somehow ends up in the dunk tank, and she gets caught on the Ferris wheel with Josh when it stops working. The chapter was funny, but it was just too long, hitting too many beats we would see in later chapters, and it didn’t feel beachy enough. So the whole carnival thing had to go. But this is one of my favorite scenes from it, when Gemma and Hallie wander into the fortune-teller’s tent.
* * *
I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the dim, incense-filled air. It was late afternoon outside, and still really sunny, so the contrast in here was jarring. It was a small room, the floor covered with threadbare woven carpets and the walls with hanging scarves. There was a woman sitting behind a table, and I took a step forward to make her out better.
I’d expected something like the fortune-tellers I’d seen in movies—flowing clothes, turban, hands covered in rings. But the woman was petite, wearing jeans and flats, and a white shirt. She looked about my mom’s age, and could have easily been any of the women I saw fighting for parking spots outside the South Fork. She was sitting with her hands folded, a deck of cards to her right. “Come in,” she said in a quiet voice that nonetheless carried across the tent. “Don’t be afraid.”
Hallie nudged me and gave me a smile, and I tried to smile back, like this was just a silly goof. But I could feel that my palms were starting to get clammy. What if, on the off chance, this fortune-teller was actually real? What if she was a psychic who would be able to tell that I was currently pretending to be Sophie? What if she told Hallie?
“I’m not sure,” I said, hanging back at the entrance. “Want to just get a funnel cake instead?”
Hallie shook her head and took a step forward. “It’ll be fun,” she said as she walked right up to the table. I bit my lip, but then followed behind her, trying to talk myself out of this nervousness. After all, most of the people working these booths were volunteers. Probably this was just somebody’s mom. There was most likely a Tarot for Dummies book under her chair that she’d stashed out of sight when we came in.
“What would you like?” the woman asked, still in her same quiet but commanding voice. She gestured to the tarot deck next to her. “I can only read one person at a time if we use the cards. Otherwise, I can try and do a general reading for you both.”
I was about to tell Hallie that she should get her tarot cards read, and I’d go out and finally try to make the ring-toss thing happen, but Hallie was already nodding and sitting down at the table. “Why don’t you do us both?” she asked, as she reached into her purse for her wallet. She grinned at me, and placed a twenty on the table before I could protest. She nodded at the seat next to her, and I sat down, trying to tell myself that this was just a random mom. She’d probably tell us both that we were destined to meet tall, dark strangers and come into money and take a long journey soon, and then we’d both laugh about it and get some funnel cake.
The woman nodded and gave us a brief smile. Then she closed her eyes and let out a long breath, fluttering her fingertips by her eyebrows. Hallie looked over at me, and I could see she was fighting not to crack up. I pressed my lips together, hard, because otherwise I knew I’d burst out laughing. It was just so stereotypical and theatrical, I could feel myself start to relax. I had nothing to worry about here.
“I sense…” The fortune-teller’s fingers stopped moving, and she raised her head and looked up. She looked at Hallie, then me, long enough that I started to feel uncomfortable, and pretended to be interested in the scarves draped above me, just to have an excuse to break eye contact. “There is so much anger in this room,” she finally said, looking a little bit surprised, as she looked from me to Hallie.
I could feel my eyebrows rise. I wasn’t sure, but it seemed like, next to me, Hallie’s posture stiffened. Of course this woman was just casting around in the dark. But who goes to a carnival if they’re angry? Maybe she was betting on the fact that everyone else had failed at the ring toss, too. “Really?” I asked, but she was back to closing her eyes. This time, though, neither Hallie nor I laughed, and I felt myself leaning forward.
“There is also…,” she went on, her eyes still closed, “deception. There is dishonesty and false fronts. False friends might be more accurate. And…” The fortune-teller’s fingers started fluttering again.
I drew in a sharp breath. This woman was talking about me. She had to be, right? How did she know that I was currently pretending to be Sophie? How could she? Nobody here knew. Nobody knew at all except the actual Sophie, and she was hundreds of miles away in Connecticut and wouldn’t have gone around telling random fortune-tellers my secret. Panicked, I looked over at Hallie, expecting her to be staring at me with suspicion, maybe even finally putting together who I really was. But Hallie had turned pale, and it looked like she was as discomfited by what this woman said as I was. I tried to meet her eye, but she seemed to be deliberately looking away from me.
The fortune-teller looked up and blinked at us. “Just … be careful,” she said, and I couldn’t tell who she was talking to—but I had a feeling she was talking to me. “Things could go wrong here. Very wrong, very quickly.” I felt a shiver go down my spine, despite the fact that the temperature outside had been hovering near ninety all day, and it was especially warm inside the tent. “There are many obstacles ahead.”
Hallie took a breath, like she was about to say something—maybe ask this woman for more details—but before she could, the fortune-teller swept the twenty off the table and folded her hands as she had in the beginning. “Would you like another reading? Tarot, maybe?” Her fluttering fingers and quavering voice had disappeared, and she was back to being all business again.
I just blinked, startled by this transformation. I tried to use it as evidence that she’d been making the whole thing up. But … what a weird thing to make up. Was she going around telling everyone that they had false friends and their lives were filled with deception? It didn’t seem to me to be a good way to get more business.
“No,” Hallie said, as she pushed herself back from the table. She glanced at me briefly, and I shook my head. “We’re done.” She walked straight to the tent entrance, not once looking behind her, and I pushed my chair back and hurried after her. I turned and glanced back as I approached the exit, and saw the fortune-teller shuffling her cards, slowly, her eyes on mine. She gave a small shake of her head—so quick a moment later I wasn’t sure if I’d imagined it—before looking back down at her cards again.
I stumbled out into the sunl
ight, and it took a moment for me to adjust—to the sunlight and noise and sounds of other people. It was like we’d been underwater and were just now coming up to the surface. I looked over at Hallie, nervous. What if she put it together? What if she wanted to talk about what this woman meant? Would this be the moment she’d realize I wasn’t Sophie Curtis—the moment this would all come crashing down?
But Hallie just gave me a quick smile that didn’t quite meet her eyes. “So that was weird, huh?” Her voice was just a little higher than usual, and it didn’t seem like she was going to want to discuss this at length. I could already hear the changing-the-subject tone in her voice.
“Totally,” I agreed, falling into step next to her as we started to cross to the other side of the carnival. I could hear the occasional high-up yell from people on the Ferris wheel. “Do you think she says that kind of stuff to everyone?” I held my breath, hoping that Hallie would go along with this.
“Probably,” Hallie said, giving me another smile. “I bet she has like four things she says. And maybe if you come in with a friend, that’s what she says to you. Probably if we’d stayed, she would have offered up a charm to dispel disharmony, or whatever.”
I felt myself relax as I smiled for real. Of course that’s what it was. She had just been setting us up to sell us another reading. There was no reason to assume anything else. And Hallie’s strange reaction had just been because she was confused. “Sorry you had to spend your money on that,” I said as we sidestepped a guy staggering under the weight of a huge stuffed teddy bear. “Can I buy you a funnel cake to make up for it?”
Hallie raised an eyebrow at me, and the tension I thought I’d seen when we were inside was now totally gone. She linked her arm through mine and started to steer me toward the snack booths. “Totally,” she said with a grin. “Let’s go.”