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“Whether someone is useful only matters if you value people by their use.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“I don’t know who I am when I’m not trying to pretend everything’s OK,”
Corinne Duyvis, Otherbound
“I look at the sky and the dust that separates us from the stars that will be my home. I breathe in the night air, the rotten night air, and I miss,
I miss,
I miss.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“I'm not making sense, and I'm so tired of having to make sense. I've even more tired of talking about how OK or not OK I am. I'm not. I've failed. That's it. People should stop going on about it.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“That would make it easy for Amara. Not having a choice was always easy. It was always safer. However bad things were, you kept your head down and did as you were told in order to avoid worse.

The world always wanted people like her to believe those lies.

You were never safe as long as you were at someone else’s whim.

Amara’s eyes met Cilla’s, dark and beaten and haunted.

Not having a choice was the worst thing in the world.

Amara pushed the knife down. Nolan didn’t stop her. And in that moment, with her enemy’s knife in her own hand, a point pressing on Cilla’s arm, Cilla’s skin familiar against hers, relief sneaked up on her and refused to let go. Because what she’d told Cilla wasn’t true. It wasn’t that she couldn’t go back to her old life; she could. If she went back, she’d hate herself, but it meant survival. It might be worth it or it might not be, and she’d never have to find out because it would never happen. She wasn’t going back.

It wasn’t because of what Maart wanted, or because of what Cilla asked, or because of what Jorn said. She’d made the choice. It was hers alone. This or nothing.

Blood welled up from Cilla’s arm. Amara let the knife clatter to the ground. She reached for the cut. She was almost smiling now, a desperate smile that had her lips trembling, that came with tears burning her eyes.

This or nothing.”
Corinne Duyvis, Otherbound
“I’m not signing up for any end of the world that my sister can’t be part of.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“I'm getting so sick of talking. It's like holding the wrong kind of magnets together: I can try and try, but it takes brute force, and the second I relax, the magnets simply slide past each other.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“True fear is the kind you can’t reason away. It makes you want to puke. To do anything, except face—whatever it is you fear. And every time you think of it, even for a flash, part of you panics.”
Corinne Duyvis, Otherbound
tags: fear
“Reading made every trip outside into something more, like strangers talking to her, words and connections wherever she looked. The world had been so empty before.”
Corinne Duyvis, Otherbound
“Does it hurt you or something? Can I ask you that?"
"Eye contact? No. Maybe it hurts for some people, but not for me. It's..." I've tried for years to put it into words. All the things I want to compare it to—music that's too loud, flavor that's too strong, images that flash too quickly—are different for other people, too, so it never feels quite right {...} "I can do it for, like, half a second. Anything longer is just too much. Too intense. It scrambles my brain."
It's intimate, I think, but don't say aloud.
"Right," he says slowly.
"Like a shock," I say, trying again. "Like a jolt that goes through me the second I make eye contact, or someone touches me when I don't expect it... like those things are suddenly so present, so loud and intrusive. It's so overwhelming I can't think right.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“I know you're worried. I'm sorry. I'm just...very..." I can't think of the right word. How do I explain that mind is too slow and too jumbled all at once. That I'm out of gas? That I've failed, and the only way to keep from falling apart is to accept that? Or that maybe I've already fallen apart, and I don't know if I can sweep the pieces back together?
I settle on three words. "I am tired.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“I like cats. I always planned that, once I got my own apartment, I'd visit the animal shelter first thing. Not for a cute kitten, but for a cat people don't adopt as often, you know? Like a black one or—"
"Actually, it's the disabled ones that are hard to place," I correct her [...] "People don't see them as worth the trouble when there are healthy cats to take. It's especially difficult for cats with both physical and behavioral issues.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“Ten minutes after loading up her plate, when Iris is sipping pale apple juice, she asks Els across the table, “I’m told I should make myself useful. What are my options?”
Els spears a strawberry. “What can you do?”
“I organize.”
“Like your sister.”
“I organize people, events,” Iris says. “Denise organizes information.”
I absorb that. I never thought of myself as organizing anything. I think of myself as listening, coping, avoiding. The words feel good, rolled over in my mind: Denise organizes information.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“This is the second time my future vanishes: it’s January 29, 2035, and I give up.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“Every engineer, doctor, and farmer on this ship has relatives on the waiting list, too, and those relatives won’t be drug addicts.
Mom’s right: no one would pick her from a waiting list.
No one would’ve picked me, either.
Usefulness or death can’t be her only options. If being picked from the waiting list isn’t feasible, then the one choice left is to smuggle her in. The back of my mind keeps whispering about the risk, about She’d only be a drain, but I shut it up. There’s a difference between leaving Mom and leaving Mom to die.
“I’m glad you agree,” Iris says. “I know it’s not easy.”
That’s what I hate. She’s right. It’s not. I still don’t want to break the rules, even if it’s to help Mom. But people on TV never abandon their family; they risk their own lives. That’s what you’re supposed to do.
On TV, people just never feel this twisted about it.
“Four this afternoon,” I say. “Let’s talk.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“Of course, when Iris was gone, Mom barely seemed to care until the final hours before evacuation.
Maybe it'll be the same for me: Denise will be fine. Oh, she'll be back.
It makes me want to laugh when I realize how wrong I am. Of course it won't be the same. I'm not Iris. It'll be: Denise? Denise is gone? Oh, god, no. How long for? She can't be out there by herself. She might've gotten lost. She's—then, confidentially, with that look of hers—she's autistic. What if she...
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“A smaller plate got mixed in with the large ones I’m working on. I’m tempted to put it back into the dishwasher by the other plates that size, but that’s—that’s probably weird, I think, and Mirjam is looking, so I just set it aside for a stack of its own. “We were selected early on. We couldn’t make it on board sooner.”
I have no idea if that lie will hold water, but Mirjam is nodding. “Gotcha. I was happy to move on board, myself. Someone broke into our house the other month—looking for food, I guess—and it didn’t feel safe after that. Plus, it was cold. We had to board up the window they broke, and couldn’t find anyone to fix it properly.”
“That sucks,” I say—usually a safe response.
“Tell me about it.”
I have a nice stack of plates now. I put my hands on each side of it, straightening the stack before reaching for the first batch of small plates. There’s a sense of relief when I add them to the single plate I set aside.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“Not having a choice was always easy. It was always safer. However bad things were, you kept your head down and did as you were told in order to avoid worse. The world always wanted people like her to believe those lies. You were never safe as long as you were at someone else’s whim.”
Corinne Duyvis, Otherbound
“I mean: if you’re going outside to look for your sister, I get it.” Max goes silent. Maybe Mirjam’s death is hitting him now, maybe his voice will choke—but he goes on. “But if you’re going outside to help your mother . . .” He gestures helplessly at my injured arm. His fingers stop a centimeter away, hovering in midair. “Don’t risk it. Don’t risk you.”
“She’s my mother.”
“The captain will never let her on if she doesn’t even try. Not when there are so many people who haven’t had thechance to try. People we can use on the ship. People who have been on that waiting list forever.”
There are a dozen things I want to say. But she’s mymother—as though that means as much as people pretend it does.
She is trying, just in a different way—as though I’m convincing myself.
I wasn’t on that waiting list, either.
I might not be someone the ship can use, as much as I’m trying to be.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“But you were unhappy. The different between you then and you now... I wish you'd told someone."
Unhappy doesn't cover it. I dreaded school so much, I couldn't sleep at night and couldn't get up in the morning; I'd park my bike near the bike garage exit just so I could be the first to leave after classes.
"It got harder after a while," is all I say.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“He’s wearing a T-shirt for the first time, answering thatquestion I had when we met. It’s not muscle filling out Max’s clothes; he’s just chubby. It looks good on him either way. The thought feels bizarrely out of place after everything that happened today.
I’ve rehearsed what to tell him. Last year, a friend of my aunt’s died, and Iris and Dad coached me on what to say. I copy it almost word for word. “Max, I didn’t know your sister well. But she was nice to me. I’m very sorry for your loss.” I hold his gaze for a second.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“Again, I hold my tongue. People tell me this a lot. Mom is so sweet, and so caring. Mom is so eager to help. Mom is such fun at parties.
Aside from Iris, Matthijs is the first one to call her a mess, though.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“I jerk my shoulder back. "Stop trying to touch me."
"I only want—"
"I'm autistic. Stop it." The words fly out. Immediately, I wish I could take them back. I don't want to be like Mom, pushing my limits into everyone's faces and demanding sympathy. I don't want them to be like Mom, either, telling me it's OK or how sorry they are for me.
"Oh." Els takes a backward step into her office. "Damn. Of course you are. I should've seen that."
I stare at the ground. "I'm sorry," I try one more time.
"I never thought about it. I just thought you were..."
Mulish. Antisocial. Disrespectful. Difficult is what she's thinking, just like a dozen teachers and psychologists before her. Just another maladjusted Black girl from the Bijlmer.
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
tags: autism
“heard. Alineans cut out servants’ tongues so they couldn’t disturb their betters,”
Corinne Duyvis, Otherbound
“Ik straf je niet... Ik bescherm mezelf.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“For a moment, I'm tempted. Work was fine first, wasn't it? I enjoyed it, and she's right, the stress will never again be as bad as it's been—
But school was like that, too. Starting each year thinking it'd be different, and within a month I'd be skipping class and fighting tears in the girls' bathroom.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“That would make it easy for Amara not having a choice was always easy. It was always safer. However bad things were, you kept your head down and did as you were told in order to avoid worse. The world always want to people like her to believe those lies. You were always safe as long as you were at someone else's whim. Amara's eyes met Cilla's, dark and beaten and haunted. Not having a choice was the worst thing in the world.”
Corinne Duyvis, Otherbound
“It's hard for my autism to be a secret, given the way my mom tells people left and right. It's not that I need it to be one; I just want to tell people myself.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“It's odd, the way I find myself defending Mom to outsiders even though I long ago gave up on her in my head.
It's guilt, I think. It's guilt because I've given up on her, and I can't possible explain why I had to.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone
“I loosen my grip and take a tasteless bite. I don’t like bananas much—they’re so mealy—but they’re a safe fruit to eat, always cleanly wrapped in their own packages. As I chew, I crane my neck to check out the people around us.”
Corinne Duyvis, On the Edge of Gone

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