The Most Dangerous Place on Earth(91)

There was only the decision to get up. There was only standing and brushing herself off, only turning and hiking back to her friends whose hoots and laughter carried through the trees, to her friends who were flawed but, yes, living; there was only digging through her bag for the last remnants of high school, throwing them into the fire. As the flames ate the papers to curling black, she knew there was only this, and whatever moment would come after, only Calista Broderick going on and trying, like everyone, to live in this beautiful world.





For Susan and David Lee Johnson





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


My sincere thanks to:

Susan Golomb, constant ally and wisest guide, who plucked me from the slush and changed my life. Noah Eaker, who has been the editor every little girl dreams of (or maybe that was just me): brilliant, relentless, and always kind. Susan Kamil, who lent her editorial advocacy, her inspired ideas, and her shawl when I was cold. The Random House and Writers House families, especially Gina Centrello, Avideh Bashirrad, Jessica Bonet, Maria Braeckel, Sanyu Dillon, Deborah Dwyer, David Ebershoff, John Hastie, Cynthia Lasky, Wade Lucas, Leigh Marchant, Sally Marvin, Steve Messina, Bridget Piekarz, Ron Shoop, Theresa Zoro, Nina Arazoza, Emma Caruso, Allyson Lord, Caitlin McKenna, and Scott Cohen. And to Soumeya Bendimerad Roberts, who sent these California teens around the world.

The Rose and Thistle Writers—Kate Hope Day, Kevinne Moran, and Rita Michelle Pogue—who shepherded this book into being with their unfailing support and unfailingly honest critique (and who are always right). Mitra Parineh and Melanie Catherine Nead, bright lights and kindred spirits, on whose sublime optimism and profound empathy I have come to rely. Margo Beth Fleming, most trusted reader of manuscripts and queries, whose counsel has steered and steadied me. My teachers at UC Davis and the University of Southern California—especially Elizabeth Davis, Janet Fitch, Gina B. Nahai, Gabrielle Pina, and Rita Williams—who gave me the tools for a writing life. My teachers at the Attic Institute of Portland, Merridawn Duckler, Karen Karbo, and especially Jennifer Lauck, who opened a window. Anthony Doerr, who bestowed his generous enthusiasm and sage advice when this book was little more than a list of ideas. The Portland Writers’ Dojo, the Tin House Writers’ Workshop, and the Squaw Valley Community of Writers, which provided much-needed community, and the Panera bakery-cafés of Beaverton, Oregon, and Culver City, California, which allowed me clean, well-lighted space to write. Neelanjana Banerjee, Katrina Carrasco, Matt Cunningham, Jenée Desmond-Harris, Alex Espinoza, Michael Fleming, Jason Harris, Joy Johannessen, Dorothy Johnson, Chris Lacroix, Maggie Heaps Lauffer, Zoe Vandeveer, and Heidi Williams, who gave vital notes and encouragement along the way. Jaime and William Heaps, teenager whisperers, who made this book possible, and so much more. Seth Greenland, who read all the bad drafts, and waited a decade for me to just tell him a story.

My husband, Ben DiPardo, whose abiding love sustains me, and whose unwavering support inspires me every day to work harder, to do better, to be more, and to be more myself. (You are the best good.) Anne and Mike DiPardo, who welcomed me into their family with open arms and conversation about books. Ardyce and Jay M. Johnson, Meredith Johnson Sagolla, Tyler Johnson, Erica Ireland, Linda and Jeff Lockwood, Linda Mai, Ashley Sanders, Laurel and Holly Shear, Gina Uriarte, and Lindsay Van Syckle, whose friendship and faith have bolstered this writer for years longer than was reasonable or, possibly, deserved. Austin Bah, who took my writing seriously when I was fifteen years old (and that made all the difference). And my parents, Susan and David Johnson, who made me believe—not that this could happen, but that it would.

Finally, I am grateful to the teenagers of Marin County, who brought me so much joy.