Izzy at the End of the World


 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 Dedication
 For my husband, Bob. The man who saw my light when the world went dark. Who always told me I was the prettiest lady in the world. Who taught our kids to laugh hard and loud, played them guitar, and took them on countless adventures. Who held my hand as our babies were born and again as you died. Thank you for sharing my journey for twenty-seven unbelievable years. For loving me like a force through our impossible, beautiful life. For teaching me the true meaning of unconditional love, and for the chance to teach you the same. So many miles, Honey. Cheers. This one’s for you.
 
 
 (And to the one reading this now who’s been through the darkest dark. The one who’s hurt so badly, you didn’t know if you’d survive. If nobody’s ever told you, I see the light in you. That a new dawn will rise just for you, born by the power of you. Thank you for coming on this journey with me. It sure is nice having a friend at the end of the world.)
 
 Contents
 Cover
 Title Page
 Dedication
 Foreword
 Chapter 1: They’re Here
 Chapter 2: They’re Gone
 Chapter 3: The Crash
 Chapter 4: Something’s Inside
 Chapter 5: “Don’t You (Forget about Me)”
 Chapter 6: Signs
 Chapter 7: Panic
 Chapter 8: Drive
 Chapter 9: The Stranger
 Chapter 10: Long Live Bob
 Chapter 11: Decoy
 Chapter 12: Stay or Go
 Chapter 13: Alienation
 Chapter 14: The Farmhouse
 Chapter 15: West
 Chapter 16: Pain
 Chapter 17: The Library
 Chapter 18: Signals
 Chapter 19: Don’t Make a Sound
 Chapter 20: What Is Hidden Comes to Light
 Chapter 21: The Truth
 Chapter 22: The Field
 Chapter 23: Taken
 Chapter 24: The Confession
 Chapter 25: Found
 Chapter 26: Inside
 Chapter 27: Free
 Chapter 28: A New Day
 Chapter 29: Home
 Acknowledgments
 About the Author
 Copyright
 About the Publisher
 
 Foreword
 HELLO. My name is Isadora Wilder, but most people call me Izzy. I am fourteen years old, and everything I’m about to tell you is true.
 The first thing you should know about me is that I’m autistic. For those who don’t have experience with autism, how I speak and act, and the ways I process things, might seem unrealistic, frustrating, or just plain wrong. But this is just me being me, the only way I know how, and I won’t apologize for that. I also have anxiety and depression. So, opening all the way up to people can be hard for me. Especially because some adults don’t like the personal things I have to say. It makes them uncomfortable to hear the pain kids like us go through. But I say those folks are wrong. Us kids are stronger, smarter, and braver than adults could ever understand.
 That’s why I’m opening my story to you. Because maybe you’ve gone through hard stuff, too. Maybe you’ve felt the way-deep-down hurt like me and need a friend who knows what it’s like to be scared and misunderstood. Someone who knows what it’s like to feel alone in this great big world. And if the adults don’t like it, tough.
 Us kids need to stick together.
 A FEW WORDS OF WARNING, THOUGH: this book contains triggers.
 Those with anxiety, panic attacks, depression, abuse, death, cancer, and/or suicide triggers might not want to read on. But if you do decide to come with me through my story, I sure hope you find something inside it that helps you through your own story, too.
 Either way, know I’m sending you love to wherever you are, and I wish you a life of love, healing, and joy. Thanks for being here.
 Much love,
 Izzy Wilder
 
 
 In the end, there is no turning back.
 
 
 
 
 
 Chapter 1
 They’re Here
 THIRTY-SIX MINUTES BEFORE EVERYONE VANISHED, I was playing video games with my little sister, Maple. We were tucked up cozy and warm in a house on top of a mountain, high enough to touch the night sky. It was late summer in Vermont. September 19, to be exact. A cool breeze slipped through the evening air, perfumed with woodsmoke and pine. My grandparents were awake, talking real quiet on the couch, almost asleep. Me and Maple were creating new avatars in our favorite game—if you call rolling on the floor and laughing while making up hilarious character names actually playing the game. Everything was normal. Nice. Quiet. At least it was, until my sister made me yell at her—again.
 “Maple, no! You cannot name your night elf FartMaster19!” We were howling so loud, Grams startled awake on the couch and hollered at us to hush.
 “What?” Maple, twelve going on eighteen, answered while shaping FartMaster19’s nose.
 “It’s not like your cat lady’s name is any better?”
 I whipped around fast, laughter gone. “How dare you talk about OMG-I-Love-Corn that way! She’s a serious and smart cat lady who just happens to enjoy corn. Everyone thinks she’s amazing, see?” I pointed my controller at the townsfolk and dragon on-screen, reflected in Maple’s big hazel eyes. “Here comes the dragon-slayer lady to worship OMG-I-Love-Corn.” Maple gave me a look from behind a wave of brown hair that said, Ew, I’m embarrassed to know you and I couldn’t love you more.
 I knew how Maple felt. Because that’s how I felt about her, too.
 “Okay, fiiine,” Maple groaned, and deleted the name FartMaster19. “If I can’t use the name I want, what about something we agree on—like your cat lady stinks and so do you.” She ducked before I threw my pillow at her head like she knew I would.
 I gasped. “How dare you. I do not stink, and my cat lady can’t help smelling like corn—it’s literally all she eats!”
 “Oh, I dare.” Maple tried not to laugh. “And I’d dare all the way over again, too.”
 I gasped and collapsed dramatically on the floor. “Fine. Change it back