Forged(78)

“Faster than a crack of lightning. He didn’t feel a thing.”

The corner of her lip twitches. “Good,” she says. “That’s good.”


It is late afternoon when Bree and I board a boat on the eastern coast. A stout man takes payment of our labors in exchange for passage, telling us we can start by mopping down the deck.

The work is hard but good, and the feel of a worn wood handle against my palm is a welcome contrast to a gun’s grip. To think I was once sick of such standard work. To think I wanted to pick up a weapon and race into a fight.

A burst of wind catches me off guard, and I shield my eyes. The smudge of coastline gets smaller. The horizon beckons. There are islanders to visit, a reunion with Heath that Bree’s anxious to have. Then a city to return to, and a whole host of possibilities beyond that. I’ll take it one day at a time. They may not be visible yet, but the right paths will materialize. The absence of something, I finally realize, does not mean it does not exist.

A pair of gulls screeches overhead, riding the air as though they’re made for nothing else. Though the cries are radically different from a loon’s, I remember.

“Bree!” She looks up from her work. I clasp my hands together and blow on my thumbs. The loon call is even more feeble than the one I managed in September’s kitchen.

“That was pathetic,” Bree says.

“It’s progress. I couldn’t do it at all a few days ago.”


“How are you supposed to get better if I praise mediocrity?” She points a finger at me. “And mediocre is a generous upgrade.”

With the mop resting in the crook of her elbow, she whistles a few times to prove her point.

“It’s a small miracle I love you,” I say.

She grins. “Same.”

The captain yells at us to get back to work, and I’m sure to splash Bree with mop water before I do. She curses me. I’ll pay for it later, but in the moment, everything is perfect—the birds and the horizon and the boat and Bree. I don’t know what comes next, but I know we’ll manage. We’ll forge our way. We have each other and deep in my gut—at the very center of my being—that feels like enough. More than enough.

I feel it, and so I know it.

Some things never change.





ACKNOWLEDGMENTS


Finishing a trilogy is a bittersweet thing. I’ve spent the last five years in Gray’s world, and a small army of people have supported me along the way.

First and foremost, my agent, Sara Crowe. Thank you for believing in this story when it was one of many in your slush pile, and for helping me navigate all the twists and turns in the publication journey that followed. Knowing that you have my back makes all the uncertainties of this industry less intimidating.

I owe an endless chorus of thank-you’s to the folks at HarperTeen/HarperCollins Children’s Books. My editor, Erica Sussman, has helped me shape this series into the story I wanted to tell—the story I always envisioned but only managed to capture on paper because of her wise suggestions and astute queries. Many thanks also to Susan Katz, Christina Colangelo, Kara Brammer, Alison Lisnow, Stephanie Stein, Kathryn Silsand, the Epic Reads gals for their constant enthusiasm and support of young adult literature (*book shimmy*), and of course, Erin Fitzsimmons, who continues to give my books the most stunning covers and interior pages imaginable.

I’ve relied on a few trusted readers and critique partners these past years. Susan Dennard, Jenny Martin, April Tucholke: Thank you for all your time and feedback. I owe you guys big-time. To Sarah Maas, Alex Bracken, Jodi Meadows, Kat Zhang, Friday the Thirteeners, the Lucky Thirteens, and the lovely guys and gals of Pub(lishing) Crawl: Writing buddies like you are priceless. I’m so grateful to have been on this journey with you.

I’ve wanted to be a writer since I could hold a pencil, and I’m only here today because of the support and encouragement of my parents. Mom and Dad, thanks for everything.

My sister, Kelsy, was the very first reader of this series; perhaps its very first fan. Anyone who’s enjoyed Gray’s story owes her a thank-you as well, because I wouldn’t have gotten beyond a few chapters if it wasn’t for her constantly asking, “What happens next?” So thanks for all the nagging, Kels. Truly.

Additional gratitude to my husband, Rob, who continues to be supportive of all my creative endeavors. (Also, thanks for putting up with me during that one car ride when I spent three straight hours learning how to make loon calls with my hands. For research purposes.) I love you to the moon and back.

Librarians, educators, booksellers: Gold stars all around. Thank you for getting books into the hands of young readers and for championing my series these past few years.

And perhaps most importantly, a showering of gratitude to you, dear reader. Thanks for letting me tell you this story about a boy and a Wall and his quest for answers. I hope this is just the beginning for us. Better yet, I hope to one day be reading something by you. Go forth and dream big. Go forth and write!