{"product_id":"last-chance-live-isbn-9780593625309","title":"Last Chance Live!","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSquid Game\u003c\/i\u003e meets \u003ci\u003eDear Justyce\u003c\/i\u003e in an explosive young adult novel about a teenage girl on death row who competes on a reality show in hopes of winning her freedom.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA 2025 \u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e Editors’ Choice\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eLast Chance Live! \u003c\/i\u003eis the most popular reality show in America—and eighteen-year-old death row inmate Eternity Price’s last chance to live. Getting cast on the show could win her clemency preventing her execution… if she can convince the viewing audience she deserves a second chance. The catch? If America doesn’t vote for her, she loses the chance to appeal her sentence, and she’ll be executed within a week of being eliminated from the show. And since Eternity’s been unpopular her whole life, she’s terrified America won’t pick her. But any chance of getting out of prison and back to her little brother Sincere, no matter how slim, is better than rotting away in her cell.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEternity never expected to find her first real friends in a reality TV house full of people battling for survival after being convicted of capital crimes, but that’s exactly what happens. So when she gets the opportunity to sabotage them and secure her own victory, she has a choice to make: protect the friendships and acceptance she’s always longed for at the cost of her own life, or sacrifice her newfound community. Eternity must ultimately decide what forgiveness, family, and freedom mean to her, and how far she’ll go to win  a game where the stakes are literally life or death.\u003cb\u003e\u003cu\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eLast Chance Live!\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e: \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eAn Indies Introduce Pick!\u003cbr\u003eA 2025 \u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e Editors’ Choice\u003cbr\u003eAn NPR 2025 “Books We Love” Selection\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"This is quite frankly \u003cb\u003ea perfect book\u003c\/b\u003e. Powerful message, \u003cb\u003emasterful storylines\u003c\/b\u003e, and exquisite writing. If we live in a just world, this candid, reflective and \u003cb\u003eexplosive tale of race and reality \u003c\/b\u003ewill remind us all how possible the world of the story is, and how much work we must do to change that.\u003ci\u003e Last Chance Live! \u003c\/i\u003eis \u003cb\u003ea chilling classic\u003c\/b\u003e.\"—\u003cb\u003eKwame Alexander\u003c\/b\u003e, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of The Door of No Return Trilogy and \u003ci\u003eWhy Fathers Cry at Night: A Memoir\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A \u003cb\u003egripping examination of American justice\u003c\/b\u003e that forces readers to confront uncomfortable truths about celebrity criminals and our fascination with watching people’s darkest moments unfold on screen.”—\u003ci\u003eRollingout.com\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“An \u003cb\u003eexplosive young adult novel\u003c\/b\u003e about a teenage girl on death row who competes on a reality show in hopes of winning her freedom, \u003cb\u003ethink \u003ci\u003eSquid Game\u003c\/i\u003e meets \u003ci\u003eDear Justyce\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e!”—\u003ci\u003eNerd Daily\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★\u003c\/b\u003e “Turn the channel to \u003ci\u003eLast Chance Live!\u003c\/i\u003e, where young death row inmates compete for America’s vote in hopes of seeing their sentence—and their competitors—eliminated…Henry’s debut delivers\u003cb\u003e deft nuance \u003c\/b\u003ewith\u003cb\u003e searing societal commentary\u003c\/b\u003e. Readers will find themselves questioning their own values as they get sucked into the \u003cb\u003edrama\u003c\/b\u003e and \u003cb\u003edisturbing entertainment\u003c\/b\u003e of the show…\u003cb\u003eA stunning mix of social and political critique\u003c\/b\u003e with \u003cb\u003ehumor\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003eeye-gluing tension\u003c\/b\u003e, and, ultimately, \u003cb\u003eempathy\u003c\/b\u003e, this surprising debut\u003cb\u003e should be eagerly shared with fans of Neal Shusterman\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003cb\u003estarred review​\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A \u003cb\u003edystopian thriller\u003c\/b\u003e filled with issues of wrongdoing, \u003cb\u003ejustice\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003emercy\u003c\/b\u003e, and \u003cb\u003eforgiveness\u003c\/b\u003e… A \u003cb\u003eserious commentary\u003c\/b\u003e on the \u003cb\u003eobstacles\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003einstitutions\u003c\/b\u003e, and \u003cb\u003esociety that teens face\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003eoffering a mirror\u003c\/b\u003e and important issues.”—\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“There are \u003cb\u003eethical questions here worth pondering\u003c\/b\u003e around our deeply \u003cb\u003eflawed criminal justice system\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003ereality television\u003c\/b\u003e pushed beyond current boundaries (but somehow still plausible), \u003cb\u003echarging teens as adults\u003c\/b\u003e, and \u003cb\u003ehow Black girls are treated\u003c\/b\u003e in general.”—\u003ci\u003eBCCB\u003c\/i\u003e, recommended review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Last \u003ci\u003eChance Live!\u003c\/i\u003e is \u003cb\u003ean astonishing literary debut\u003c\/b\u003e that captures the desperate choices and unlikely possibilities that loom in our fatally flawed criminal justice system. \u003cb\u003eHelena Haywoode Henry’s brilliant pen vividly conjures a world where truth, mercy and forgiveness\u003c\/b\u003e battle dehumanizing indifference to demonized bodies. Henry’s \u003cb\u003emasterly novel\u003c\/b\u003e reminds us of the toll paid as we imperfectly mete out the justice we claim to cherish but hardly ever achieve.\"—Michael Eric Dyson, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eTears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eLast Chance Live!\u003c\/i\u003e takes readers on\u003cb\u003e a deeply humanizing journey\u003c\/b\u003e of a teen on death row competing in a reality tv show to earn freedom. Told through past and present vignettes with \u003cb\u003ebiting intellect \u003c\/b\u003eand \u003cb\u003emoments of aching humanity\u003c\/b\u003e, Henry confronts the machinery of identity, justice and youth with chilling clarity. \u003cb\u003eUnrelenting, darkly funny, and quietly hopeful\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003cb\u003ethis book \u003ci\u003edemands\u003c\/i\u003e to be read—and remembered\u003c\/b\u003e.”—\u003cb\u003eJ.Elle \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eWings of Ebony\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This \u003cb\u003especulative story feels like a dystopia\u003c\/b\u003e that is just within reach of the real world. \u003cb\u003eFans of \u003ci\u003eBlack Mirror\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eSquid Game\u003c\/i\u003e will love this\u003c\/b\u003e. Readers will learn to love our main character while she is on death row.”—\u003cb\u003eErin Decker\u003c\/b\u003e, White Rose Books \u0026amp; More, Kissimmee, FL\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I felt sick the whole time I was reading this book. Helena sees so clearly a reality we’re swiftly moving to—one we’ve been swiftly moving to, echoed in books like \u003ci\u003eFahrenheit 451\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eThe Hunger Games \u003c\/i\u003eand movies like \u003ci\u003eDeath Race\u003c\/i\u003e—and she deftly managed to make us care about everyone and worry about the end. Try to read more slowly, to delay getting there. \u003cb\u003eThis one is going to stay with me for a long, long time and I can’t wait to recommend it to everyone I know.\u003c\/b\u003e”—\u003cb\u003eGrace Lane\u003c\/b\u003e, Linden Tree Books, Los Altos, CA\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Like most dystopian books these days, this is far too close to real life for comfort. It’s \u003cb\u003eheart-wrenching and deeply moving\u003c\/b\u003e, but also \u003cb\u003efast-paced and funny\u003c\/b\u003e. It may seem strange to relate so deeply to characters on death row, but that’s the point: we're all just people born into vastly different circumstances, making the best or worst or only possible choices, able to heal and change and forgive. Maybe the only constant is our humanity. There were insights in this book that felt like they were pulled directly from my own life. \u003cb\u003ePowerful.\u003c\/b\u003e”—\u003cb\u003eFrederick Rossero\u003c\/b\u003e, Oblong Books, Millerton, NYHelena Haywoode Henry is a mom of three and a former attorney living in the Raleigh-Durham area. Helena graduated from the University of Pennsylvania and from NYU School of Law. \u003ci\u003eLast Chance Live! \u003c\/i\u003eis her first novel.11 years on death row\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e11\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI started hating printers in sixth grade, when Momma made us do this tutoring thing at Penn. Each week Momma said that she wasn’t gonna hear no complaining about it. I just needed to get my butt moving and go. This girl Allison who always wore a Penn sweatshirt and gold T shoes tutored me every week, against my will, and sometimes it felt like against hers too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe same soundtrack played each time we met. The printers sang with the clicking keyboards at Huntsman Hall, like they were making a song about working and being smart, or about people who focused and had lots of money or were gonna have lots of money. Allison would try to tell me about math stuff, but I couldn’t listen to her, partly ’cause there were too many people typing, partly ’cause I hate math and never get it. She’d start with pre-­algebra, ask me ’bout \u003ci\u003ex\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003ey\u003c\/i\u003e, while I didn’t even get why we were talking letters instead of numbers.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI spent most of our meetings staring at the ceiling. At the beginning of each school year, navy banners hung above each wooden bay, one letter on each flag, \u003ci\u003eW-­E-­L-­C-­O-­M-­E\u003c\/i\u003e. I didn’t feel welcome. I pretended for Momma, but I knew that place wasn’t mine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI heard that print-­click song again when I got my pretend summer job at Hart Inc., being some kinda printer and copy assistant. Nana found me two Goodwill suits, but that still didn’t make it a real job. My high school guidance counselor said it would help me for college. The pretend part was ’cause they didn’t pay me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis woman Anne Allen would tell me to do things. She was tall with pretty brown curly hair and seemed kinda cool for a white lady, even though she talked about pop stars too much.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut each day she was less nice; all she did was bark orders and every email she sent me ended with \u003ci\u003eASAP\u003c\/i\u003e. Like \u003cb\u003eprint all these documents, then three-­hole punch the papers and put them in a binder ASAP,\u003c\/b\u003e and I’d stand at the printer and finally, after years of just hearing a printer’s song, I had stuff to print. At first, I tried hard to do everything right. But each email and barked order made me realize Anne didn’t see me. She didn’t notice or care how hard I was trying.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eTook me two weeks of standing at the printer to figure out Anne Allen didn’t have a pretend job. She had a real job. She got paid. She clicked keyboards and printed and made money for it. I clicked keyboards, I printed stuff too, but all for no money. So instead of letting her waste my not-­pretend time, I planned out a trip to Disney World, pretending my mom was still alive and could take me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter those two weeks, Anne Allen decided I did everything wrong. I didn’t save files to \u003ci\u003ethe system\u003c\/i\u003e the right way (what the hell is \u003ci\u003ethe system\u003c\/i\u003e); I didn’t know how to use the copy machine.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen one day she yelled at me ’cause I just did her binders \u003ci\u003eAP\u003c\/i\u003e, not \u003ci\u003eASAP\u003c\/i\u003e, and another day because I spelled her last name wrong. “Just look at this,” she said with this annoyed kind of huff, waving her misspelled name in my face. “Does this look right?” She went on waving and huffing like she couldn’t believe some pages got out of order, or I printed double-­sided when she said single.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen she was yelling at me, I’d avoid her eyes and stare at her stupid long nose, thinking ’bout how much blood would gush out if I smashed my palm into it. I traced her brown ringlets as they bounced, thinking I could pull them out of her scalp, maybe take some skin too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnne Allen thought I was stupid, but truth is she was the stupid one. She was supposed to teach me and help me, instead of acting like all of me was worth less than one of her wrong-­hole-­punched papers. I wasn’t born knowing how to do the stuff she wanted. If she wasn’t gonna show me—­when did she think I was going to learn?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe didn’t care if I learned or not. Didn’t care if I ever grew up to be anything.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMaybe didn’t care if I ever grew up at all. Just cared about her binders and deadlines.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a month she told me stop printing stuff, stop making binders, she’d just get her secretary to do it. So I decided if I was gonna stop printing then I was also gonna stop coming. I quit putting detergent on the underarms of my two suits every other night. Instead, I stayed home and played games on my phone, getting high scores and big tips from the hard-­to-­please businesswomen who ate at my restaurants.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnne Allen complained to my school like the Policy Patty she is, but they couldn’t hurt me. I didn’t work for her anymore and didn’t work for my school either. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMy guidance counselor called it a learning experience. All that I learned is I can’t print things right. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnne Allen crept up on me at night all sophomore summer when I was trying to sleep. She’d hang over my bed, inflated to twelve feet tall, flapping her pink glossy lips along to the sound of a printer, telling me \u003ci\u003eASAP\u003c\/i\u003e, then \u003ci\u003e(scoff) Never mind, I’ll do it myself (huff)\u003c\/i\u003e, then \u003ci\u003eASAP\u003c\/i\u003e again, then \u003ci\u003eJust look at this, does it look right\u003c\/i\u003e, over and over. Her hair grew as she did, spilling onto my dresser and out my window. She threatened to swallow my bed, my whole room, maybe Nana’s whole house.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI learned how to stop her. I put Anne Allen in a red room with everyone else that I hated. Like my seventh-­grade teacher who didn’t do anything when I had nowhere to sit in the cafeteria, or when the kids in that class started calling me hungry hippo. Like this kid Amari at school that I hated, who’d make pig noises when I walked to my locker. Like the person I can’t even look at in the room, who testified against me at my trial. Couldn’t look at him during the testimony either.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThen I tied them all up and poured gas in the room, watching their faces as they realized they were gonna die. I saved an extra surprise for Anne Allen, though. I got up in her face. Then I tore her skin away, starting with the skin at her eyeballs, digging my fingers into her sockets and peeling it back all the way down her face. I soaked up her scream, the best song ever played, her voice rising above the notes of a printer, clacking and beeping while I printed everything right. When her face was only red tissue, I lit a match at the tip of her nose, so she knew her pain wasn’t over, it had only just begun.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI got out of the burning room before flames hit the ceiling ’cause I could fly, and they could not.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI learned some more at my last job too. A week working at Dairy Queen taught me right quick that seven dollars an hour’s a pretend job too.","brand":"Nancy Paulsen Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233322807525,"sku":"NP9780593625309","price":21.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593625309.jpg?v=1767731166","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/last-chance-live-isbn-9780593625309","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}