The Last Boy and Girl in the World by Siobhan VivianThe Last Boy and Girl in the World by Siobhan Vivian

The Last Boy and Girl in the World

bySiobhan Vivian

Hardcover | April 26, 2016

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From the critically acclaimed author of The List comes a stunning new novel about a girl who must say goodbye to everything she knows after a storm wreaks havoc on her hometown.

What if your town was sliding underwater and everyone was ordered to pack up and leave? How would you and your friends spend your last days together?

While the adults plan for the future, box up their possessions, and find new places to live, Keeley Hewitt and her friends decide to go out with a bang. There are parties in abandoned houses. Canoe races down Main Street. The goal is to make the most of every minute they still have together.

And for Keeley, that means taking one last shot at the boy she’s loved forever.

There’s a weird sort of bravery that comes from knowing there’s nothing left to lose. You might do things you normally wouldn’t. Or say things you shouldn’t. The reward almost always outweighs the risk.

Almost.

It’s the end of Aberdeen, but the beginning of Keeley’s first love story. It just might not turn out the way she thought. Because it’s not always clear what’s worth fighting for and what you should let become a memory.
Title:The Last Boy and Girl in the WorldFormat:HardcoverDimensions:432 pages, 8.25 × 5.5 × 1.5 inPublished:April 26, 2016Publisher:Simon & Schuster Books for Young ReadersLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:1481452290

ISBN - 13:9781481452298

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Customer Reviews of The Last Boy and Girl in the World

Reviews

Rated 4 out of 5 by from Love is gorgeous!! I came into this book, deciding to pick it up at the moment I did because I expected to legitimately read about the last boy and girl in the world. I actually expected to read about a dystopian-like romance with us trying to discover why are they the last, or if they are just the beginning, you know? The title kind of fooled me. But either way, this was so adorable and I must admit, Siobhan Vivian keeps on doing it. Keeps on surprising readers with her flair and beautiful writing that just keeps on making us beg for more. Begging on our knees. At least I am. I would totally want some kind of continuation to Keeley's story and how everything fits together perfectly. But at the same time, it did end more perfectly than I could have ever wanted it to. I must say that there is just one main point in my mind that keeps on echoing in a spiral: love is gorgeous. Listen: I don't think I'll get some kind of personal intake from this, because I know I will not ever form some kind of high school romance, but this story works in so many ways and FOR THOSE WHO WANT ROMANCE AND SOMETHING NEW? READ THIS THING. NOW. Siobhan Vivian has similar writing to the magnificent Jenny Han. Well, they are best friends after all, and they probably rub off on each other. I remember reading Burn for Burn and discovering that I could not even imagine whose perspective was written by who. I kind of feel the same way now; it was like Jenny Han's presence was in here. That's a positive thing, my friends. This is a cutesy contemporary that comes with (A) a flood that really has you looking out your window for any severe thunderstorms (B) a cute rebellious guy and (C) that back-and-forth motion of a relationship. This is about two love-struck teenagers, after all. There HAS TO BE that back-and-forth motion where we end up expecting that the relationship is going to downfall and plummet into the dirt. I cannot give you any hints if there was a good turnout for Keeley and Jesse (there, that's his name! I almost forgot!) This story, again, is about a flood that shocks a very small town. That's so interesting to read about, because the flood actually does take a major toll on the plot. We read about the many circumstances that Keeley has to overcome, and most of these hardships involve the flood in one way or another. We read about the hardships of her parents' relationship, and how their opposite personalities really rip their love apart, and it all occurred because of the flood. And in a way, things came together between Keeley and Jesse because the flood occurred. Their "huge school" did not make this happen, but their attraction did. And let's mention that there was a year age gap between them; it's not like they knew each other well. I had a few issues with this: Levi and Elise. These were two side characters that us readers did not expect to come into play of this book at all. But towards the end, we not-know-it-alls realize that they did play a big role in Keeley's life. Levi is that side-character that just shocks us, and we've always felt his presence by Keeley's side. And then we have Elise, who is that third wheel in the relationship that we do not want to tear apart: Morgan and Keeley's. I've always been told that there can never be a friendship of three people, and this is why. I kind of raged that these two characters were plummeted into the plot, but whatever, honestly. Me, as an avid reader, occasionally finds contemporaries to be kind of fluffy. Too fluffy sometimes. I found the plotting very detailed in this story and that was a huge highlight for me. This turned out to shock me in more ways than another, and I was so excited to read the ending, and feeling that burst of rainbows inside of me. Siobhan Vivian does it again, she whips a relatable protagonist with so much angst in her that I just FEEL her, alongside friendships and romance. 2016 is not the same without this book, y'know?
Date published: 2017-01-18
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Have Some Fun While Learning to Let Go :) First off, some cover love because this cover is gorgeous! I love the use of the different shades of blue, the adorable graphics and the placement of the words as it connects and sinks into the water (like the story!). The way the ink of the words bleed when they touch the water is so creative. I love this scene. Its relevance will become clear as you read the book ;) The Last Boy and Girl in the World came off as a bit of a slow read but I really enjoyed the story. It wasn't just about a girl trying to win the boy of her dream while her town slowly sinks under water. It was about the choices she makes along the way, how they affect her and those around her, the way she dealt with them and ultimately how she faces the consequences to some of her less than savory actions. Every step was honest and real. Keeley didn't make the best decisions but I found her easy to read. She jokes around a lot but I can sympathize that it's her way of defusing tension and minimizing awkwardness. I found her to be a bit juvenile since while her town's sinking, she constantly only thought about getting with the boy she likes. Then again, I like that she went for it and gave it her best. Keeley navigated through newfound feelings and figured out who/what were truly most important. There was immense character growth as bit by bit Keeley realizes jokes won't solve any problems. She's left with only truths. I won't say she handled them well because she didn't but she pulled through realistically. The romance in The Last Boy and Girl in the World was both obvious and subtle. I won't mention any names because then what fun would that be? You need to discover them for yourself ;) Keeley had a fun relationship with the boy she's liked since forever. They goofed off and did silly things. It was a nice switch considering the depressing mood that lingered over the fate of their town. I knew that as soon as this boy was introduced he was going to be the one. I definitely couldn't wait for their relationship to develop further. It was slow and almost perfect (almost because I wanted more... who wouldn't?!). The history Keeley and Morgan share and the memories they're still creating together made me happy for them. It's so special. Especially since their mothers are best friends too. They had each other. When things kind of went downhill, I felt unfair on Keeley's behalf. I felt Morgan wasn't in any place to say those things to Keeley. I never got the sense that she tried very hard to understand Keeley's feelings. It was more than obvious how much Keeley valued their friendship so I'm glad we had some form of closure on that front. Family was an important aspect in this book. I really loved how strong Keeley's mom was- not in a physical sense but in her ability to stand by her husband's side but also say enough when it's enough. She commanded respect whereas Keeley's father didn't. I didn't feel for him but I do believe his actions were made with the best intentions in mind. That excused him from getting more hate from me. Despite its slower pacing, The Last Boy and Girl in the World is thought-provoking, down-to-earth and fun. Some things are meant to be let go so join these characters on cracking jokes, going crazy and mostly having a great time as they do so.
Date published: 2016-04-29
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Review from This is the Story of My(Reading) Life The Last Boy and Girl in the World stood out as a book about relationships and how to leave the past and move forward. What's worth fighting for and when you should realize there's more important things in life. Sometimes a memory should stay just that. The Last Boy and Girl in the World is based on an interesting concept; a town that is essentially dying. The constant flooding has become too much and the government has decided that the money paid out to the residents to relocate out weighs saving the town. Time to turn it into the lake it is slowly becoming anyhow. It's like the end of the world for its residents and everyone is going to handle it differently. Some want to try and save their home, some take it as an opportunity for a new life, and some, like Keeley and her friends take it as a chance to act like it's the end of the world. Keeley was a girl I could understand. I can see how readers might find her bratty. But I found her to be awkward and goofy. Keeley is someone that needs to make a joke in every situation. She needs to keep it light. And I get that because I suck with emotions. I am the most super awkward person whenever there's a sad or depressing moment happening. All my brain is thinking is how do I deal? A misplaced laugh should do the trick. So yea, Keeley probably should have toned it down, but unfortunately your personality can be your own worst enemy. It did get to the point where Keeley's immaturity and lack of good judgement got to be too much. I'm nearing the end of the book and thinking finally she's starting to see that this can't be fixed with a joke or prank, and than she does something extra stupid. That there was the downfall; and what accumulates from that moment. The last 30ish pages were a big disappointment. 90% of the people around Keeley totally on board with their end points. But not Keeley, she just failed to really learn from her mistakes. It was a everyone will forgive me in the long run. And just nope. Keeley's relationship with her parents was complex. Her parents were very prominent in the book. The end of Aberdeen brought forth all that was being left unsaid in their house. Her mom over working herself to the bone, well her dad has turned into the town hermit because of an injury. Until the evacuation brings her dad's overly opinionated and confrontational side the forefront. He's going to be the guy that saves the town. Well so he thinks. Obviously this brings up a lot of good and bad for their family. Keeley is happy to see her dad finally out and about, but of course that comes with its own set of problems. Keeley has tunnel vision and is being sucked into her dads plans. It was frustrating to see her going along and not asking him questions. I so felt for her mom and the responsibility and stress on her shoulders well her husband finally comes alive but not in a way that puts his family first. Ultimately I super proud of how Keeley's mom handled her life and emotions. Keeley's relationship with her best friend Morgan, was refreshing. They weren't constantly trying to take each other down. They were just best friends in the sense that term is supposed to mean. Attached at the hip and there for each other. Morgan specifically was constantly putting Keeley first. I don't want to say that Keeley was needy, it was more that her personality needed Morgan's attention. I could see why their relationship hit a bit of a road block; Keeley was keeping everything so light and fluffy that she was holding herself back from the depth that Morgan wanted in their friendship. Keeley was being unintentionally selfish, and Morgan had every right to take a step back and say grow up a little, yea. Jesse is that guy that Keeley has had an unattainable crush on for forever. Until the shocking happens and he takes notice of her. With their town and home Aberdeen dying, both Keeley and Jesse see it as a chance to do anything. So although their relationship had no substance, and thankfully Keeley was seeing it what it was for, a good time in the time they had. Jesse is the fun, party type popular guy. So Keeley and him share a lot of the same traits. Jesse wasn't a bad guy, just him and Keeley being together really highlighted her overly jokey and immature side. I could see the points when she realized that, it's just here is the guy she's loved from afar for so long, how do you take a step back from that? And what's to lose; it's the end, it's not going to matter in a few months. Jesse and Keeley were always just a fun, quick romance and I wish that was all this book had romance wise. Because the romantic ending, it was so out of place. I knew it was coming because obvious much. But I was still hoping that it wasn't going to go down. It just didn't make sense. I can't ship it. I can't get behind it, I can't make sense of it. They spent the whole book annoying each other because they are so different and than boom, last 20 pages and they, well Keeley, suddenly has feelings for this guy. And in all honesty, this guy let Keeley off the hook. His feelings were so misplaced. He was continuously kind and helpful towards Keeley. Yet Keeley was rude to him, left him hanging, stabbed him the back and than ultimately did something really shitty to him. Ultimately they should have just cleared the air and been done with it. No kissing and no romance. The Last Boy and Girl in the World is super atmospheric. The constant rain and weather updates throughout the book kept me looking outside expecting to see rain and flooding. That was a fun feeling and totally fit in with the compelling nature of the book. I had no problem reading this in a sitting. The pacing was quick. And really if not for the last handful of pages this book was a strong four star. Yea sure, those pages pissed me off, but I still enjoyed this one overall. It was a good time.
Date published: 2016-04-26

Read from the Book

The Last Boy and Girl in the World 1 Sunday, May 8 Mostly cloudy, with steady afternoon showers, 49°F I used to love rainy days. The coziness of hiding inside a baggy sweater. Of thick socks and galoshes. Curling up against your best friend to share her too-small umbrella. The drowsy, dreamy way a day can pass when there’s not a single ray of sunshine. That was before Aberdeen had its wettest spring ever recorded. After three weeks straight of precipitation, I was ready to blow off finals and move to the Sahara. The weather hadn’t reached biblical levels. We’d had a couple of big storms, not one long and endless monsoon. Some days it just sprinkled, some days it only misted. But the air always felt damp and unseasonably chilly. I was sick of layering. Thermals under jeans, T-shirts under button-ups under hoodies, tights or leggings under dresses under cardigans. All of it thickening me like a full-body callus, while my dresser drawers were full of neatly folded spring clothes that I was dying to wear. In fact, most kids still wore winter coats to school even though it was the beginning of May. In those early days, I remember that, more than anything else, feeling wrong. So it was really nice to wake up to the sun the morning our high school’s Key Club went to help shore up the riverbank with sandbags. Especially since the forecasters were already predicting a band of severe storms later in the week, supposedly the worst to hit us yet. Actually, the first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was a rainbow. Not a real one, but a rainbow sticker I had put on the underside of Morgan’s bedside lampshade a million years ago. Everything in Morgan’s room used to be covered in stickers—her walls, her mirror, her closet door. Over time, she’d peeled them away, though their sticky gum outlines were left behind, like permanent shadows. But she never found this one, and I liked that it was still there. I lifted my head off the pillow. Morgan was already in the shower. I waited until I heard the water shut off before climbing out of her bed. It was too cold and too early to bother changing clothes, so I threaded my bra back through the armholes of the T-shirt I’d slept in and checked to make sure my leggings weren’t too baggy in the butt to wear in public. Then I reached across Morgan’s side of the bed, picked one of my socks off her radiator, and squeezed it. It still wasn’t completely dry, not even after a night spent baking on the coils. Morgan hurried into her bedroom in her bra and underwear, a towel twisted around her hair. Ever since her parents divorced and her dad moved out, she’d quit wearing her bathrobe. Or maybe it was ever since she’d started hooking up with guys. I wasn’t sure. “I’m borrowing dry socks, okay?” I knelt in front of her laundry basket. She shivered as she pulled on her jeans. “You want an extra shirt, too?” she asked, pulling a white thermal with a tiny yellow rosebud print out of her dresser and offering it to me. I shook my head. “I have my hoodie. And once we start working, I bet we get sweaty.” I looked forward to that, to being outside and not feeling cold. Morgan put on the thermal and plopped down at her desk, a place more for makeup and hair stuff than for studying or homework. She unwrapped the towel. Her hair was such a dark shade of brown, it looked black when it was wet, and she barely ran her comb through it before twisting it up in a topknot. It was so thick that she used three hairbands to hold it, and I knew the center of that knot wouldn’t ever dry, not even by the next morning. Then Morgan sat back in her chair and stared at her reflection for a few quiet seconds. When she noticed me noticing, she said with a chuckle, “I guess one good thing about having a long-distance ex is that I don’t have to worry about randomly running into him in Aberdeen.” I crawled over to her on my knees and put my head in her lap. Sweetly, I said, “Hopefully he’ll die soon, and then you’ll never have to worry about seeing him at all! You should try praying for that the next time you go to church.” Morgan gasped and pushed me on the shoulders, sending me backward onto the carpet. “Oh my God, Keeley! That’s so wrong! How could you even say that?” But she was laughing, because she knew I was joking. I was always saying crazy stuff like that, taking it too far. Too far was my default setting. I flailed my arms and legs like a turtle stuck on her back. “Because that’s what best friends are for!” Morgan wore the tiniest hint of a smile as she reached to pull me up. “I’ll text Elise and tell her we’ll be over soon.” While she did, I pulled a peach sock with lavender stripes from her laundry basket but couldn’t find its match. I went over to her dresser and opened the top drawer. I had to dig a little to find it. It was underneath a plush stuffed chick with his wings glued around a plastic egg. There’d been a chocolate heart inside that egg. Morgan had given me half on our drive home from hanging out with Wes during Easter weekend. It was milk chocolate with Rice Krispies, my favorite. We ate the chocolate and drove home with the chick propped up on her dashboard, its googly eyes googling with every bump in the road. Wes gave Morgan tons of little presents like that all the time—cheesy greeting cards, silk roses, key chains, perfume, candy. Elise said that showed what good boyfriend material he was, though I doubt he paid for any of it since his parents owned a drugstore. Before their breakup, Morgan prominently displayed the gifts around her room. When they disappeared, I assumed she’d thrown them away. But they were all there, crammed in the drawer. I lingered over them until Morgan chucked her phone aside. Then I quickly pushed the drawer shut. “Don’t you think this is a huge overreaction?” Morgan said, half underneath her bed, reaching for her galoshes. I wasn’t sure if she knew what I’d seen or not. I certainly wasn’t going to say anything about it. “I mean . . . I get that it’s supposed to be a crazy storm, but Levi asking Key Club to come out on a Sunday morning to stack sandbags seems crazy.” I’d had the same thought myself. The river flooded at least a few times each spring, and even with the rain that had already fallen, it hadn’t added up to anything disastrous. The people in town who lived closest to it knew to take certain precautions when it was supposed to storm, like parking their cars on higher ground and moving their patio furniture indoors. It was more annoying than dangerous. “Yup,” I said. “And also, Levi didn’t ask. He basically demanded. I would have told him to screw off if I wasn’t sure he’d kick me out for insubordination or whatever.” Our high school didn’t have a ton of clubs, and so I needed to list Key Club on my college apps. I was even considering running for president next year, because my guidance counselor said admissions tended to favor candidates who held leadership positions over kids who just listed a bunch of activities. “I wouldn’t put it past him,” Morgan said, her lip curling. “He’s the total worst.” “Well, I’m choosing to think of it this way. If the river does flood, we’ll have done our part to protect our soon-to-be-inherited beachfront property.” Morgan grinned at that, spinning around to face me. “Thirty-two more days until we’re officially seniors.” “Thirty-two more days,” I echoed, just as excited. At that moment, Wes was the only obstacle I saw between me and Morgan having another terrific summer together. And whether or not she kept his crappy trinkets hidden away in her drawer, he was still, thankfully, her ex. •  •  • Back in the old days, Aberdeen was primarily a countryside vacation destination for the rich residents of Waterford City, thirty miles downriver. It was cabins and summer cottages and pine groves. People swam in the summer, skied and ice-skated in the winter. My dad even has a vintage postcard showing people in old-fashioned bathing suits, striped umbrellas, and canvas beach chairs, enjoying our beautiful riverfront. A hundred years later, the seniors of Aberdeen High School still swam in the exact spot the tourists once flocked to, where the bank stretched as wide and flat as an ocean beach, complete with sand that glittered in the sunshine. This wasn’t the only swim spot in Aberdeen, but it was the best. Except it wasn’t as perfect as the old postcard because of the long-abandoned lumber mill that anchored the end of the beach. The spot designated for juniors, where I spent nearly every day last summer, was a quarter mile upstream from the senior spot. The beach there wasn’t pure sand like the seniors had, more a mixture of sand and dirt and pine needles. You always had to have a blanket down, but it was still nice. A rope swing looped around a fat branch of a tree that grew sideways out over the water. I’m not sure who put it up. It had been around forever. Last summer, hardly any of the other girls tried it. They were scared the rope would break or their bikini tops would fly off when they hit the water. But after a couple of swings on the first sunny day, I had it down. Which knot to anchor my hands on, exactly when to let go so I’d hit the deepest part of the river, where the water was the coolest. I even took to screaming out something dumb to make everyone laugh whenever I’d make the plunge. Like this one time, I shouted “Super-absorbency!” because Elise had just admitted that she’d once worn a tampon and a pad while swimming at a church retreat, because she feared leaking in the water. The other girls there that day had no idea what I was talking about, but they laughed just the same. The boys shook their heads or groaned. They never knew what to make of me. The sophomores and freshmen were relegated to a swim spot even farther upstream, near the highway overpass. They had to pull weeds to clear a place for their towels and pick up the trash tossed out of passing cars. The location sucked for those reasons, plus there were tons of plants, slimy reeds, and other crap you didn’t want touching you when you swam. Anyway, that’s where we were told to show up for sandbagging duty. Morgan parked her car near the overpass and we followed the flow of students toward two dump trucks full of sandbags and a rapidly growing group of volunteers. Obviously, other school groups besides Key Club had been summoned to help. Adults came, too. People’s parents, off-duty policemen, my second-grade teacher, Mr. Gunther. Even Mayor Aversano showed up, dressed like a complete tool in a suit shirt and dress slacks, with his slicked-back hair. He did have enough sense to swap his dress shoes for a pair of work boots, but I still rolled my eyes. At exactly seven thirty, Sheriff Hamrick climbed up on one of the dump truck beds, clicked on his bullhorn, and asked everyone to gather around. Then he extended a hand to the mayor and Aversano’s dress pants stretched dangerously tight over his butt as he lunged up. Aversano took the bullhorn and started talking but no one could hear him. Sheriff Hamrick had to lean over and show him the trigger to press to make the thing work. I laughed. Hard. Morgan clapped her hand over my mouth. “Thanks, everyone, for coming out today. Obviously, we’re hoping that the weather forecasters are wrong, the way they tend to be about ninety-eight percent of the time.” A few adults chuckled at that lameness. I remember thinking, hoping, that I would never turn into the kind of person who thought weather jokes were funny. As Mayor Aversano went on, his voice took on a totally fake somber tone. My dad had been the one to first alert me to his penchant for doing this, after the mayor announced his most recent budget for Aberdeen, where he was “forced” to cut anything considered “nonessential” (quotations used to highlight his bullcrap). Since then, I always noticed it, a performance about as believable as our high school drama productions. “. . . but we must be ready in case they aren’t, and do our part to protect our citizens from harm. I’m going to turn things over to Sheriff Hamrick to explain how today’s going to work.” Morgan and Elise leaned their heads together. Elise whispered, “I seriously can’t believe he hasn’t called you yet. It’s been two weeks, right?” “Almost,” Morgan whispered back. “It must be a pride thing. Maybe he’s waiting to hear from you first?” Then Elise gave Morgan’s topknot an encouraging little squeeze. I burst in between them and grabbed each by the hand. “Let’s go down to the senior spot. It’s almost ours, anyway. And this place is giving me freshman-year flashbacks of those pink bikini bottoms that always gave me a wedgie.” “But Sheriff Hamrick hasn’t finished his instructions yet,” Elise said. “How will we know what to do?” “What’s to know?” I said, pulling her along. “Take sandbag, pass sandbag, repeat.” It blew my mind how often Elise brought Wes up after the breakup. I knew she meant well, but why poke a bruise as it’s trying to heal? I think Morgan probably picked up on my Wes interference, because she walked a little bit ahead of Elise and me and changed the subject. “Eww,” she said, pointing as we neared the bank of the junior swim spot. “It looks like chocolate milk.” The river normally ran clear. Not crystal, but close. But the previous storms had churned the water up big-time and it was so high, you couldn’t see the tail end of the rope swing in the murky water. The current pulled it taut, like a fishing line had hooked a dolphin. “Okay, so maybe sandbags are a good idea after all.” I zipped my hoodie up to my chin, lifted the hood over my head, and stuffed my hands in my pockets to keep them warm. The morning sun was gone now, and the clouds hung low and oppressive, like someone’s basement ceiling. We walked to the senior spot. Another group of volunteers came from the opposite direction. Then everyone fanned out. I sat down on a rock in the sand and let out a big fat yawn. “Keeley,” Morgan whispered. I ignored what I thought was her cue for me to stand up, even though I probably should have stood up if I wanted to look like someone who should be elected Key Club president next year. But I was tired. Normally, Morgan and I slept in on Sundays until lunch. And the dreary weather wasn’t helping. Morgan then knelt down in front of me and practically inserted her entire head inside my hood. “Can I help you?” The tip of her nose pressing into mine, she said, “Look left.” I turned my head. And there was Jesse Ford. His back was to me, but I still recognized him because Jesse had the cutest mop of wavy blond hair that was always the perfect mess. The pieces in front were long, almost chin-length, and he used their natural curl to keep them tucked behind his ears. That’s how he usually wore it, except when he played soccer. Then he’d steal a rubber band off some teacher’s desk and pull all his hair up into a little tuft at the top of his head, a man bun I guess you could call it. I know this is truly a look that only very cute and/or confident guys can successfully get away with. Put Jesse Ford in that slim minority. In fact, I weirdly liked it up in the man bun, because it showed off the million different shades of blond over his head. My hair is also blond, but it’s all the same color—pale yellow, like a stick of butter. Jesse’s is an entire box of Crayola crayons devoted to the shade. For example, some strands are as golden as the tops of the cafeteria corn muffins, some darker like pine sap, some as bright white as the sand that poured out of the splits in our sandbags that day. Morgan quickly pushed my hood off my head and mussed my hair, pulling out a few stray pieces from the little nubby ponytail I had at the nape of my neck so they wisped around my face. She unzipped my hoodie ever so slightly, and pushed up my sleeves so they were at my elbows. She took a step back and smiled, pleased, and then beckoned to me to stand up. I did, but only for a second, because as soon as I got to my feet, I pretended to faint dead away from happiness, flopping trust-fall style into Morgan’s arms when I knew for sure that Jesse’s back was still turned. Morgan barely managed to keep me upright. We both busted up laughing. “What’s so funny?” Elise called out from Morgan’s other side. Morgan pushed me off her and her cheeks turned rose-petal pink. It didn’t matter that I was the one embarrassing myself. Morgan always blushed by proxy. She leaned over and said quietly to Elise, “Nothing. Just Keeley being Keeley.” I watched nonchalantly as Jesse and some of the other guys on the soccer team kicked an empty Gatorade bottle across the ground. I guess they’d been asked to volunteer too. After fifteen minutes or so, the chitchat hushed and the sandbags started to come down the human chain. Jesse shot me a quick smile as he turned to pass me the first one. Aberdeen High was small, with only about fifty kids in each grade. I’d had a class with him last year, Spanish II, but we’d never had an actual conversation before. Not in English, anyway. Still, I couldn’t tell if he recognized me, or if he smiled because everyone knew who he was. All the volunteers worked in painful silence for the first half hour. “Do you think we’re almost done?” I joke-whispered to Morgan as I heaped the next sandbag into her arms. The first few hadn’t been so bad, but I swore they were getting heavier and heavier. “Don’t make me laugh, Keeley!” Morgan panted as she twisted toward Elise and passed the sandbag on. “My abs already hurt.” I gasped. “Oh my God, what if we’re both so out of shape that we end up getting totally ripped from doing this, like two professional—” “Hey! Watch out!” I whipped around to Jesse lobbing his sandbag into my not-waiting, not-ready arms. I screeched and jumped out of the way because if that thing had hit my toes, it would have killed. Everyone around us turned to look. But his sandbag didn’t land on my feet. It was never going to. Jesse had a hold on it the whole time, and he pulled it back at the last second, a perfect fake-out. He doubled over laughing at how I spazzed, and I felt queasy as I stepped back into line. But then, when Jesse looked up at me, he winked. I realized he wasn’t making fun of me, he was teasing me. There is a difference. “Hardy har har” was the first thing I thought to say. I groaned the words like an annoyed older sister, but really, inside I was all fireworks. I let the next few sandbags come down the line, still sort of stunned that Jesse and I’d even had that much of an interaction. At some point, Morgan gave me a raised eyebrow and mouthed, Talk to him! I ran through a hundred flirty conversation starters I’d overheard Elise coach Morgan to say to Wes or the boys before Wes, but imagining them coming from me, out of my dumb mouth, each one sounded like a nauseatingly transparent cover for Hello, Jesse Ford, please talk to me, boy I’ve loved forever. But a few minutes later, as Jesse turned to pass another bag into my arms, I had an idea. I pulled out my phone from my hoodie pocket and pretended to text someone. “Sorry,” I singsonged, holding up a hand to Jesse. “This’ll just take a sec.” This forced Jesse to hold on to his sandbag until I finished. He knew I was joking, of course, and he played right along without missing a beat. He grunted like it was killing him to keep holding the sandbag, but I think he liked showing off how strong he was. The other guys on the soccer team were freakishly skinny. Like, skinnier than most girls. Not Jesse. I knew for a fact that he had actual six-pack muscles because he had this terrific habit of peeling off his sweaty soccer jersey after games and slinging it over one shoulder. For that reason, I never, ever, ever missed a home game. Our little comedy routine got the attention of Levi Hamrick, son of Sheriff Hamrick and president of Key Club. He walked by us, glaring over the megaphone he’d taken from his dad, and said, “Pick up the pace.” I took great offense at this, because, okay, sure I was joking and probably slowing things up a little bit, but I was also working extremely hard, and if not for the adrenaline that my proximity to Jesse Ford afforded me, my arms would have functioned about as well as cooked spaghetti. Jesse leaned in close. Close enough that I smelled the pancakes he’d had for breakfast on his breath. Close enough that I spotted three freckles in a perfectly straight line across his earlobe. “I think Levi Hamrick has a crush on you.” “Gross.” “No, seriously. This is like the third time he’s walked over here to check on you. You should go for it. He’s a catch. He’s . . .” Jesse cleared his throat and switched into a corny announcer’s voice. “A Guy Who’s Going Places! ” A Guy Who’s Going Places! was the headline of the local newspaper article that had run the week before, along with a picture of Levi holding up two handfuls of thick envelopes spread out like an oversize deck of cards. He’d received acceptances from every single college he’d applied to, which surprised a grand total of no one. Levi ate his lunch in the library. He won the science fair four years straight. His name always topped the honor roll. He scored the highest on the SATs out of the entire senior class. He clearly did nothing but study. He didn’t seem to have any real friends, just nerdy acquaintances, because I never saw him at the movie theater on the weekend, or in the stands for home games. The one place he’d hang out was outside the police station with the officers, folding metal chairs circled up around an open garage bay while they waited for a call or a shift change. He was like a little cop-in-training. The article was only interesting because of a dumb thing Levi said. The reporter asked him which of the schools he was leaning toward, and he answered, “Probably the one that’s farthest away.” Obviously, that kind of snobbery rubbed a lot of kids the wrong way. Aberdeen was not a town of privilege, where people regularly got opportunities to seek bigger and better things. I heard someone giving Levi hell for it in the hall, and he looked baffled as to why. I bet he thought that because he was being honest, no one could be offended. Actually, I don’t think anyone was offended. More like they had proof of what they’d secretly suspected, Levi Hamrick was a pompous jerk. I, on the other hand, already knew that for a fact, because Levi Hamrick was the reason I’d quit Mock Congress my freshman year. The only black mark on my high school transcripts. I leaned in to Jesse and cupped my hands around my mouth. “Levi Hamrick isn’t hot for me.” I was already second-guessing the joke that popped into my head, but it came tumbling out of my mouth anyway. “He has such a hard-on for rules, I bet he jerks off to the school handbook.” Jesse backed away, a shocked-yet-delighted look lighting up his face. Like even though we’d been chatting for the last few minutes, he actually saw me now for the first time, like I’d materialized before his eyes. It sent a surge through me. A pop of thunder cracked just as the last sandbag came off the dump truck. Everyone scattered. I wondered if Jesse might say good-bye to me, but I couldn’t find him in the melee and I didn’t want to linger like a stalker. Well, I did, but Elise and Morgan were hungry, so the three of us hustled, sore and limp, back up the river toward Morgan’s car. •  •  • I had her passenger door handle half-open when a pair of hands squeezed my hips. I buckled because I’m super-ticklish and also because of the sheer surprise of Jesse Ford touching me. He snatched my phone away. I tried wrestling it back from him . . . but not with enough force to actually take it, because even though I’d only ever kissed two boys in my lifetime, I wasn’t a total dummy. Fending me off with one hand, Jesse plugged in his phone number with the other and then sent himself a text from my phone so he’d have mine. Then he returned my phone with a wink and shuffled off to catch up with his friends. I checked my sent messages. He’d written, Jesse, you are hands down the hottest senior guy. Also charming, funny, and kind to small animals. Can I pretty pretty please have all of your babies? I steadied myself against Morgan’s car and tried to catch my breath. “What was that about?” Elise asked, one eyebrow curiously raised, as she climbed in. “Nothing,” I said, playing it cool. “Jesse just wanted to ask me something.” Morgan flipped down her visor and adjusted it so she could see into the backseat. “Hey, Elise, did I ever tell you how”—and this was where I started trying to cover Morgan’s mouth with my hand, because I knew what she was about to say—“Keeley would make me pretend to be Jesse when we were in middle school? She had a whole scene worked out—dialogue, costumes, and everything.” Elise leaned forward so her head was in the front seat with us. “Umm, why am I only hearing this now?” Morgan looked at me, her lips pressed together like she was about to burst. Though she wanted to, she wouldn’t tell Elise unless I gave her permission. She was that good of a friend. I wasn’t embarrassed for Elise to know. My crush on Jesse Ford wasn’t something burning and constant and tortured. Okay, maybe it had been when I was in middle school, but I blame that on the introduction of hormones into my bloodstream. Once I got to high school, it turned into something much quieter, something I hardly thought about beyond silently acknowledging how hot Jesse looked on whatever day, or momentarily wishing I was whichever pretty girl he’d be kissing in the hallway as I walked past them. Because by that time, I had matured enough to understand that Jesse and I would never happen. As soon as I gave Morgan a nod, she couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “Keeley would make me draw on a moustache and get down on one knee with a Ring Pop and beg her to marry me!” I quickly clarified, “Just remember, Elise, this was middle school. Like, long before either of us had boobs.” Because Elise sometimes made little comments about how fun-loving or free-spirited I was, which were all polite versions of immature. Part of me could actually imagine her thinking I still acted this way. Then I swatted Morgan. “You kind of sucked at it.” “How could you say that?” Turning to Elise, I explained, “There was no artistry to her performance. I’d have to keep reminding her to talk in a deep voice and—” “Sorry I’m not as big of a ham as you are!” “Whatever. I made the best of it. My love of Jesse transcended your awful acting.” Morgan was laughing so hard she could barely get the next question out. “Wait a second! What were the names of your three kids again?” “Jesse Jr., Jamie, and”—the last name we said together—“baby Juliette.” Elise settled back in her seat and pinned the swoop of her hair with a bobby pin. She’d been growing out her bangs since Christmas. She laughed too, but more out of politeness, respect for a friendship that predated her. Elise grew up in Hillsdale, where Saint Ann’s Church was. Morgan knew her from Sunday school and then teen youth group. I remember the first time I met her at a church picnic Morgan had dragged me to when we were in seventh grade. Morgan kept telling me how alike Elise and I were, how much we had in common. I took this as a compliment about our friendship, that if Morgan had to make a new friend, she’d pick the most Keeley person she could find. I pictured Elise as a sweeter, churchier version of me. And she was, at first glance. Elise was thin and delicate with a brown bob that fell just past her chin and a silver cross pendant that hung in the hollow of her collarbone. I’m not sure if she was surprised that I was coming with Morgan to the picnic, because she’d only saved one extra chair. She stood up and offered both chairs to Morgan and me, and sat in the grass by our feet. I appreciated the show of respect. But it might have been because Elise was afraid of me. I remember saying all kinds of borderline inappropriate things to her to be funny, like stringing together a bunch of curse words or making dirty jokes or whatever. Morgan kept laughing nervously and telling Elise, “She’s kidding, she’s kidding,” to which Elise quickly forced a smile and replied lightly, “Oh, totally, I knew that.” We were in line for hot dogs when Elise pointed out a boy with flippy hair and mirrored sunglasses playing his guitar to accompany a pastor singing a Jesus song. She leaned in and said to me, “I used to be so hot for that guy, but it turns out he’s the absolute worst kisser on the planet.” And she stuck out her tongue and rolled it around like someone having a seizure, and then made a gag face. “I can’t even see his cuteness anymore. He’s, like, tainted.” Neither Morgan nor I had ever French-kissed anyone. We were still playing those pretend games at her house. “She’s not boy crazy or anything,” Morgan whispered to me later on the ride home, as if she could read my mind. “She’s just . . . uh . . . not shy.” And then she threw in, “Like you!” to put me at ease. Of course, after Elise’s dad lost his job and they moved to Aberdeen, I saw plenty of Elise’s sweet and churchy side, and I think that’s ultimately what I liked best about her, those two identities mashed up together. She was super-sweet with her little brothers, and if we came over when she was babysitting, she’d be playing with them just as much as hanging out with us. And she never talked shit about anyone, even people who completely deserved it, like Wes. Meanwhile, her phone was full of numbers, boys we’d meet at the mall or the movie theater or who went to her church. Elise wasn’t so much interested in having a boyfriend as she was in having someone to crush on. I think, at first anyway, having a boy to obsess about kept Elise from feeling jealous of what Morgan and I had together. Because as close as the three of us were, every so often there were moments where our threesome was eclipsed by the previous twosome. I say this with no offense to Elise, of course. But you can only have one best friend. My friendship with Morgan went all the way to the cradle, because our moms were best friends too. She couldn’t compete with that. Later on, though, when it was both Morgan and Elise getting that kind of attention together, I became the odd girl out. “Anyway, Jesse and I weren’t flirting,” I corrected her. “We were joking around.” Again, there is a difference. One I knew all too well. Morgan cleared her throat. “Keeley, he checked out your butt as you grabbed us bottles of water from the cooler.” I couldn’t play off my shock. I spun toward her. “He did not. Shut up.” “He totally did! He watched you walk the entire way!” I wanted so badly to believe her. And maybe it was the truth. But we’d both heard what her ex-boyfriend Wes had said about me, the kind of girl I was, and I knew Morgan wanted to undo that damage. It was why she broke up with him in the first place. So there was that possibility too. And for me, it was the possibility that seemed more likely. Because like I said before, I had only kissed two boys in my lifetime. Neither one was from Aberdeen. They were both friends of boys that Elise and Morgan were interested in. We’d get dressed up cute and make the drive to Hillsdale, or some other town, to meet them. At first, it was more Elise’s thing, but then boys started asking Morgan for her number. Over the past year, I lost count of how many times Morgan or Elise would stand off a little ways with the boys they liked, whispering to them or showing them something on their phones, leaving me with whoever else had tagged along. Unlike my friends, I never knew how to act. I’d either completely clam up, afraid I’d say something dumb, or I’d swing too far the other way and say, like, many many many dumb things. In the last three years, I’d met lots of boys, obviously. But I’d only ever kissed two. •  •  • By the time Morgan dropped me off, it had started to rain yet again. Lightly, but the way the wind whipped through the trees, it was clearly the beginning of another big storm. The weathermen were right after all. Mom’s car was long gone. I knew she’d be working. The only patch of driveway that wasn’t getting slick was underneath Dad’s old work truck. It sat in our driveway like a clunker because Dad didn’t drive anymore, but it still ran fine. We’d been trying to sell it forever but there were no takers. Mom said Dad was asking too much. Dad defended his price by listing off the truck’s attributes—how dependable it was, the low mileage, how he’d splurged on new brakes right before his accident. Before I went in the house, I climbed inside it and started it up, letting the engine run for a few minutes as I looked at Jesse’s text again. I did it to make sure that the battery wouldn’t die. I was hoping it wouldn’t sell and then I’d get to drive it when I turned seventeen next March. I jogged the path to our house, a clapboard cottage with shingles the color of buttercream and the front door painted robin’s-egg blue. There were three bedrooms and a bathroom on the second floor, a living room, dining room, and kitchen on the first floor, plus a small attic with a pull-down ladder and a musty root cellar, which had always scared the crap out of me. We had a front porch just big enough for a swing, and the moss-covered roof came out from directly under my bedroom window. I crept inside, knowing Dad would be sleeping. Dad had become nocturnal ever since his accident. He’d spend every night on his computer, and then sleep pretty much the whole day away. It was easier for him, I think, to be asleep while everyone else in town was out doing the things he couldn’t anymore. So I wasn’t surprised to find his computer on. He used two chairs, one to sit in and one with a couch pillow on it where he could prop up his leg. I cleared away a coffee cup and a dirty plate, turned off the monitor, pushed the chairs back in, picked up his cane, and set it next to the stairs so it would be waiting for him when he woke up and came down again. I went into the kitchen and made myself a grilled cheese. My sandwich in one hand and my phone in the other, I reread Jesse’s text a few more times before I forced myself to delete it. It wasn’t even hard, because I was 99 percent sure I’d never hear from Jesse again. I didn’t even blame Wes for making me think so pessimistically. It was just my reality, to never have a boy be interested in me romantically for more than one random moment. Like a TV show you don’t like but you end up watching anyway, because there’s nothing else on. And remember, this was Jesse Ford. Not some less-cute friend of the boys Elise and Morgan were interested in. Jesse could get any girl in school he wanted. He was so charming and funny and disarming that it didn’t matter if he wasn’t the most traditionally handsome guy. It didn’t even matter if the girl he was after had a boyfriend. The year before, some meathead football player found out that his cheerleader girlfriend had secretly kissed Jesse, and he punched Jesse square in the jaw in the middle of the cafeteria. The picture of the aftermath, Jesse proudly grinning with a bloody lip and a purple cheek, was still his profile picture. I couldn’t imagine a single scenario where he’d want to be with me.

Editorial Reviews

"A love story that makes you think."