Author/Uploaded by Megan Paasch
Contents Title Page Copyright Notice Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 2...
Contents Title Page Copyright Notice Dedication Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Epilogue Acknowledgments About the Author Newsletter Sign-up Copyright Guide Cover Title Page Dedication Chapter 1 Epilogue Acknowledgments Contents Copyright Pagebreaks of the print version Cover Page iii v 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106 107 108 109 110 111 112 113 114 115 116 117 118 119 120 121 122 123 124 125 126 127 128 129 130 131 132 133 134 135 136 137 138 139 140 141 142 143 144 145 146 147 148 149 150 151 152 153 154 155 156 157 158 159 160 161 162 163 164 165 166 167 168 169 170 171 172 173 174 175 176 177 178 179 180 181 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212 213 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 221 222 223 224 225 226 227 228 229 230 231 232 233 234 235 236 237 238 239 240 241 242 243 244 245 246 247 248 249 250 251 252 253 254 255 256 257 258 259 260 261 262 263 264 265 266 267 268 269 270 271 272 273 274 275 276 277 278 279 280 281 282 283 284 285 286 287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311 312 313 314 315 316 317 318 319 320 321 322 323 324 325 326 327 328 329 330 331 332 333 334 335 336 337 338 339 340 341 342 343 344 345 346 347 348 349 350 351 352 353 354 355 356 357 358 359 360 361 362 363 364 365 366 367 368 369 370 371 372 373 374 375 Begin Reading Table of Contents About the Author Copyright Page Thank you for buying this Feiwel and Friends ebook. To receive special offers, bonus content, and info on new releases and other great reads, sign up for our newsletters. Or visit us online at us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup For email updates on the author, click here. The author and publisher have provided this e-book to you for your personal use only. You may not make this e-book publicly available in any way. Copyright infringement is against the law. If you believe the copy of this e-book you are reading infringes on the author’s copyright, please notify the publisher at: us.macmillanusa.com/piracy. For Dad. I wish you could see this, but I’m sure, somewhere out there, you know. CHAPTER 1 Daylight is fading to twilight in that slow, creeping way of summer evenings. Here under the shadow of the trees—so many trees, tall as the skyscrapers back home—it’s already night. My sister and I left New York for the fabled land of man buns, flannel, and old-school grunge, and I can see how the look would have come about in a place like this. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone was a lumberjack in their spare time. “Eva, put your feet down.” I ignore my sister, the Cranberries lulling me to sleep through my earbuds. Dolores O’Riordan’s haunting voice tells me I’m a dream to her as I drift off against the dark blur of forest sliding past my window. My feet remain on the dashboard. It’s an uneasy kind of sleep. The kind where I’m still half-aware of my surroundings but the details are shifting. Next to me, Rhonda’s presence is overtaken by a heavier, deeper feel as my dream-addled mind rearranges her form into Dad’s. In a moment, I’ve slipped into the back seat, my tiny feet pressed against the vinyl pocket in front of me. A younger, less somber Rhonda sits beside me again, staring contentedly at a dog-eared paperback. Dad, eyes shining, looks over his shoulder at me. His image is hazy, backlit by the sun. How you doin’ back there, Bug? Excited for the beach? His voice isn’t quite right. It’s close, I think, but the precise depth, the way he forms his words … I’ve already lost them. We hit a pothole, and my eyes fly open. “What?” I ask, a little too loudly, startled into wakefulness. “Feet,” Rhonda says. “Down. Help me find the turn.” I sit up properly, removing my earbuds. My hand instinctively reaches into my pocket and wraps around the smooth oblong of Dad’s Swiss Army knife. Rubbing my thumb along the bumps of the corkscrew, I take a few breaths, gathering myself, tucking the ever-present ache safely into the background where it belongs. “What’s the street again?” “Fay Road,” Rhonda says. As I watch out my window for street