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First published April 5, 2016
“When I met Jonah Daniels yesterday, there was a magical shift in the trajectory of my summer. He’s the ring to my Frodo, the wardrobe to my Lucy Pevensie. His presence in my life sets me on my journey, and I can feel it, a vital mission pulsing in my bones. Here is a boy who needs me."
“And thank you especially to Jonah for the most beautiful meal I’ve seen in ages. I swear to the Man in the Moon, if it tastes half as good as it looks, I’m going to come meowing back at your front door for table scraps.”
“I’ve always fixated on the things I want in my life - paint palettes and sumptuous fabrics and star-flecked skies and dancing on my tiptoes and the smell of jasmine."






To the deepest, most cellular level of my being, I resent people who believe that depression is the same as weakness, that "sad" people must be coddled like helpless toddlers. So to think that Jonah-my own boyfriend, my friend, my lover, whatever he is-would believe that he knows what his mom needs better than she does? That her grief makes her unaskable, voiceless, unreliable? This is very hurtful.
Vivi talks her mom into spending their summer in Verona Cove, California. It's a nice and peaceful little town where everyone knows everyone else.Verona Cove sits above sea level, so if you walk westward on any street in town, you'll eventually hit the bluffs. Some of them drop off right above the ocean, and others taper downhill toward the shore. I think I imagined the California coast with surfers running headlong into the waves and with pops of colorful umbrellas. But it's quieter, just the whoosh of water and call of birds. I stand on the cliff with mist rising from the ocean almost straight below me, and, even after a week of this, it stuns me. The natural world makes the finest architects and designers and artists look like silly amateurs. I'm so lucky to stand witness to panoramic blues skies and white-tipped waves and the craggy earth beneath my feet.

"Here." Vivi grasps my wrist, pulling my whole left arm toward her. I feel wetness against my skin, the cool stroke of a damp paintbrush. When she's done, my arm displays ten digits in blue paint. Her phone number runs from my bicep, where my T-shirt sleeve begins, to the base of my palm. "Just text me when you know."
By the time we step outside, we've been at the shop for less than an hour. In that time, Leah made a new friend, and I got a girl's phone number painted on my arm. I look down at Leah. "That was weird."
She nods. "Good weird."
I'm in love with Leah, of course, and her limitless imagination and infectious giggle and the unselfconscious way she plays with my hair. I love Isaac and his obsessions and his tiny glasses and spiky hair, created with some sort of gel clearly stolen from an older sibling. I'm in love with Bekah and her preteen moodiness and eye rolls, the way she's still a carefree child until she catches herself and slips back into sulkiness. I'm in love with Silas-his immature jokes meshed with responsibility for the littles. Even Naomi, obstinately making me earn her friendship, and I'm failing so far, which only makes me try harder.
And Jonah. Oh, Jonah. That boy did me in that first night at his house-seeing him in his natural element, cooking and surrounded by his rambunctious family.

“Every girl wants to be Dorothy Gale or maybe Glinda. I never wanted to be the tornado.”


“She has no idea. She was there, but she has no idea how scary it got-like my brain, my body, my whole life was on fast-forward and I couldn’t push stop or even pause. How low it got after, living with what happened. And then how numb. How much I missed feeling music in my bones.”
“I need a Vividay, which is a holiday, only better.”
“How weird do you think our family is, on a scale of one to ten? “ “One hundred, “ she says simply. “But good weird.”
“Why should you even come here? She asked.” “Because I’ve been having a hard time since before the day we met. She never walked away from me because of it. Her feelings weren’t contingent on how easy or hard it was to be in my life. She doesn’t have to be sunny for me. That’s not how it works.”

“Even the constellations can see us now: we are seventeen and shattered and still dancing. We have messy, throbbing hearts, and we are stronger than anyone could ever know.”
“Are you busy tomorrow morning? I’m off work.”
“Not busy. Just home with the other three.”
“Good. I’ll bring supplies.”
“For what?”
“A Slip ’N Slide.” She flashes me that strawberry smile. “God, Jonah, keep up."
“Hey, Jonah?”
“Yeah?”
“I don’t really know how to break this to you,” I say. I hop down from the counter and look up at him. “But I think you are maybe falling in love with me.”
“Here’s what I learned from the past five minutes: you can’t out-crazy Vivi Alexander. On the grouchy to blissful spectrum, she spends zero time in the middle. She wallops me with the change in her moods like a one-two punch. Thrilled! Pissed! And right now, with her glare burning into my skin, she hates me.”
“I’ve always loved the Wizard of Oz, you know? Every girl wants to be Dorothy Gale or maybe Glinda. I never wanted to be the tornado.”
“Maybe we were dying planets, Jonah, being drawn into the darkness.” I hold my right palm against his cheek, and I wish I could touch him with both my hands. “When we collided, we bounced each other back into orbit. And now we have to do that—we have to return to our own paths because that’s what we gave each other.”
“You wish for a boy to spend the summer with, and instead life gives you his whole beautiful family.”["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
“Do you know if the Verona Cove police are strict? I mean, like, on first-time offenders. Who may have created some, ahem, unsanctioned art on the local plant life. Asking for a friend, of course.”
“ I don’t mind being introduced to people’s skeletons first hand, in person. I more than don’t mind it. I prefer to reach right into the closet and shake their bony hands and say hello for myself.”
“I’m going to murder my alarm clock one of these days. I don’t use my phone as an alarm because there’s a very real chance I’d chuck it out my attic room’s window. Every morning the clock shrieks, and I mentally flambé the whole damn thing. ”
I lie down in the cool grass beside him as planets collide above us, and we stay like this for a long time, down to every last crumb. My cheeks are wet, but oh, my heart—it is so full.