The Art of Losing(85)
She glanced away, but her smile grew. “How did he look?”
“He looked good, I guess,” I said. “He and Ryan were coming from Frisbee, so they were a little sweaty. Do you want me to invite him to come see you here?”
She considered it for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I’m not ready to see him yet. I want to wait until I can shower and dry my own hair. I want to be wearing something besides sweatpants.”
I argued that I didn’t think he’d care, but she was adamant. And I knew better than to try to convince her otherwise.
“So,” I said instead, “do you feel like watching The African Queen?”
She grinned. “Yeah. But if we like it, let’s not tell Dad. It’ll just make him insufferable.”
I stuck out my pinkie, and she linked hers with mine. “Deal.”
Acknowledgments
I’ve spent my life surrounded by the most inspiring book lovers. I have dreamed of someday seeing my own name on the shelves of the bookstores in which I’ve spent hundreds of hours. But seeing the dream come true has taken the help of an army of people, to whom I owe enormous thanks.
This book is dedicated to my sister, Anna Woodward, because I could—and did—write pages about how wonderful she is. Bugso, you’ve always had confidence, whether you’re dancing or singing or learning or teaching. I believe in myself because you never seem scared to try something new and I’ve always wanted to be like you.
But this book wouldn’t exist without the constant support of my mom. Thank you for telling me so many times “You are a writer,” for showing me that creativity is important and teaching me to write, for insisting that I always keep a journal, and for asking “What happens next?” until I finish my stories. But mostly, thank you for talking me down off all those ledges and being there to catch me when I jumped anyway.
Dad, thank you for all the jokes, the puns, and the one-liners. You’ve taught me that work and fun don’t have to be mutually exclusive, and that fun sometimes takes work. Sorry for all that burned daylight. Thanks for checking my medical facts, and for loving this book and making me believe in it too. I swear, someday I will watch The African Queen. And I’ll keep working on that Ferrari.
Thank you both for putting me in rehab, and for loving me enough to not be afraid of letting me hate you. I am strong because you supported me.
To my agent, Stephen Barbara, who signed me for what was clearly an imperfect book based on the number of revisions we did: thank you for seeing the good and for helping me fill in what was missing. Thank for you holding my hand and answering questions I should probably know the answer to after this long in publishing. Thank you for making my dream come true.
To my editor, the incomparable Daniel Ehrenhaft: thank you for believing that Harley and I had an important story to share. Thank you for working through the corrupted files and feverish epiphanies that made this a better book and me a better writer, and for somehow knowing what I was trying to say, but not quite saying, and making it better. (Could you edit that sentence?) I am lucky to count myself among the many members of the Dan Ehrenhaft Fan Club.
“Thank you” may not cover what the team at Soho Teen deserves, especially Bronwen Hruska, Rachel Kowal, Paul Oliver, Steven Tran, Monica White, and Janine Agro. As a publishing veteran, I know how much work goes into making a book, and I know that it can’t happen without an incredible team behind it. Thank you for believing in this story, for making it look pretty, for making sure people know it exists, and for a hundred other things that I didn’t even know were happening.
To my family—especially Patricia Hinn, Della Hinn, Andrew King, Jane Palmer, Maury Palmer, Robert Palmer, Steven Woodward, and Sara Taylor—thank you for proving that family can be friends. I’m sure people all over the world think this, but I have the BEST family.
To my mother-in-law, Betty Gold, thank you for believing I would finish this book long before I did. Your notes were invaluable and your encouragement kept me writing. Thanks also to my father-in-law, Alan Gold, for your support and writing wisdom, and for giving Karl the comics that eventually inspired my main character.
I wouldn’t know what friendship was without my best, oldest friends Meredith Bracco, Kara O’Donnell, and Erin Riley. Thank you for getting me through high school and for sometimes acting like we’re still teenagers.
Marcio, thank you for being my first best friend and for appearing out of the dark that night all those years later. Thank you for inspiring Rafael.
My amazing earliest readers: Ksenia Winnicki, thank you for being there any time for a book signing or writing date or movie or nachos. Jamie Pacton, proof that Internet friends are real friends, thank you for always being willing to talk me through plot problems and read my messy drafts. Gaby Salpeter, thank you for so many nights of tots at Big Daddy and for your invaluable thoughts on this book when it really needed it. And to Stephanie Brown and Hannah McBride, thank you for being my first blogger friends, for being so supportive for so many years, and for being the first to ever give me an “author” badge at an event and making me cry.
To all the authors who believed we’d one day share shelf space: thank you. Special thanks to Robin Benway, Alexandra Bracken, Susan Dennard, Elizabeth Eulberg, Jeff Giles, Brigid Kemmerer, and Danielle Paige for all the pep talks, hand-holding, advice, and writing wisdom.