Underwater(67)

I get it. This stuff is private. She doesn’t need to make small talk with me.

“Shall we?” Brenda asks.

I nod and follow her inside her office.

“So,” Brenda says as we settle into chairs across from each other. “We’re here. How do you feel?”

“Accomplished?” I say it like a question, like I need confirmation.

“Yes. Certainly. This is an accomplishment.” She smiles at me. “Tell me about your summer so far.”

I do. I tell her about beach chairs and boardwalks. Sleeping in and swimming laps. Pancakes and passing time. Ben and Evan. Evan and me. My mom.

My friends.

“I saw Chelsea and Brianna,” I say. “I called Sage.” The words come out in a rush. I realize I’m excited about them.

“How did that go?”

“It was good. It was normal.”

Brenda smiles. “How so?”

“I thought it would be so hard but it was really okay. It’s like they’ll always be my friends no matter what. And I’ll always be theirs.”

“Exactly. I’m so glad you’ve reconnected, Morgan. It’s important. For all of you.”

I look past Brenda’s shoulder and through the window at the bright blue sky and green trees outside.

“I can almost see PPHS,” I say. “Did you know it’s opening again in the fall?”

“I did. How do you feel about that?”

“I want to go back. I miss it.”

“What do you miss about it?”

I laugh. “The thing I miss most is what scares me the most: all the people. I’m sick of taking classes by myself on a computer. I miss literature discussions, swim team, and eating lunch with my friends.”

Brenda nods. “Those are good things to miss. I’m so happy to hear you want to return.” She’s looking me right in the eye and grinning so wide that I can see the gap between her front teeth.

“It’ll be hard,” I say.

“You can do it.”

I believe her. I have to. Because right now, more than anything, I don’t want my senior year to be like my junior year. I want to walk the hallways of Pacific Palms High School when it opens again in the fall, no matter how hard it seems.

Chelsea and Brianna will be there. And Evan. And Taylor. The memories will be there, too. Along with a new building and a memorial wall.

“What else is on your mind?” she asks.

“I have a letter here. For my dad.”

Brenda sits up straight. “Do you want to share it?”

I pick at some blue nail polish flaking off my pinky finger. “I don’t want to read it out loud. Can you just take a look?”

She holds her hand out for the letter. I fish it out of the pocket of my shorts and pass it over. She pulls the letter from the envelope I’ve addressed to my dad at his rehab facility and unfolds the crinkled paper.

“It’s short,” she notes.

“Yeah. But it says everything.”

Dear Dad,

I know you might be embarrassed about things you’ve done, but I want you to know I understand them, in a way. Because I’ve lived them, too. I understand what it feels like to think you’ve disappointed people you love. But the thing is, when people love you, they love you no matter what. I realize this now.

I’ve always loved you. Even when it hurt. Even when you weren’t around. Even when I worried you’d forgotten who I am. I’ve always loved you.

I would like to find a way to have you in my life again because I miss you.



Love,

Morgan

“You’re right,” Brenda says, folding the letter back into the envelope and handing it over to me. “That’s all that needed to be said. Do you feel good about it?”

“Yes. But would it be stupid to send it to him?”

“Why would that be stupid?”

“What if he doesn’t want it?”

“I think he’ll want it. He wouldn’t have checked into rehab if he didn’t want to repair mistakes he’s made. And maybe, even though he’s the adult, you might need to be the one to reach out first.” Brenda taps her pen against her notepad.

I think of Sage and how I reached out to her first. I don’t regret doing it. “Okay.”

“Now that I think of it, there’s a mailbox at the end of the block. What do you say we send your letter off right now?”

“Right now right now?”

“Sure. Why not?”

I adjust my ponytail, nod, and stand up. Brenda grabs her keys and sunglasses, and I follow her through the front door.

Down the stairs.

Around the corner.

Across the sidewalk.

To the mailbox in the distance.

When we get there, I pull on the big blue handle and toss my letter inside. I don’t hesitate. I just let it go.





acknowledgments

Heartfelt thanks and gratitude go out to so many people who cheered me on and helped me out while I made this book a book.

To the entire FSG/Macmillan team, especially my editor, Joy Peskin, for seeing what was on the page and also what wasn’t. Thank you for loving these characters as much as I do, talking about them like real people, and for helping Morgan’s story grow the layers it needed. Your brilliance, guidance, and kindness are a debut author’s dream and I am so fortunate to get to work with you. To Andrew Arnold who made a book cover that literally made me gasp with excitement when I first saw it. It is perfect. To my keen-eyed copyeditors, Cynthia Ritter and Kate Hurley as well as Karen Ninnis, thank you for your patience and support in getting this just right. And to the lovely Angie Chen plus everyone else behind the scenes at FSG, I am so grateful for you. Additional thanks to the Macmillan UK Children’s team, especially Venetia Gosling, whose enthusiasm for Underwater means the world to me.