{"product_id":"the-glass-girl-isbn-9780525708117","title":"The Glass Girl","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER • From the critically acclaimed author of \u003ci\u003eGirl in Pieces \u003c\/i\u003ecomes a raw, heart-wrenching novel about a teenager facing down her struggles with alcohol—and the journey she must take to heal.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e“A must-read.” —Laura Nowlin, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eIf He Had Been with Me\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e“Everyone needs this book.” —Sloan Harlow, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eEverything We Never Said\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Everyone in fifteen-year-old Bella’s life needs something from her. Her mom needs her to help around the house, her dad needs her to not make waves, her ex needs her to not be \u003ci\u003eso much\u003c\/i\u003e. The only person who never needed anything from her was her grandmother—and now she’s dead.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There’s only one thing that dulls the pressure: alcohol. Vodka, beer, peppermint schnapps—alcohol smooths the sharp edges of Bella’s life. And what’s the big deal? Everyone drinks. Besides, Bella can stop whenever she wants. But after she gets blackout drunk at a Thanksgiving party and wakes up in the hospital, it’s time to face reality. And for Bella, reality means rehab.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Gorgeously written and deeply compassionate, Kathleen Glasgow’s \u003ci\u003eThe Glass Girl \u003c\/i\u003eis a candid exploration of the forces pushing young women toward addiction—and what it really takes to help them get better.★ “\u003cb\u003eGlasgow’s gift for writing is in full force here\u003c\/b\u003e … Glasgow already has a strong following and will surely attract more with this addition to her body of work. Consider purchasing multiple copies.” —\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ \"Combining \u003ci\u003eThe Bell Jar\u003c\/i\u003e with \u003ci\u003eEuphoria\u003c\/i\u003e, this heart wrenching read offers \u003cb\u003ea resonant and compassionate look at teenage substance reliance\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ \"This compelling novel leaves it up to Bella alone to admit she needs help and is \u003cb\u003ean education—and a warning—about the depths of addiction\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A \u003cb\u003evisceral\u003c\/b\u003e, weighty read.\" —\u003ci\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\"The story unflinchingly examines the darkness in life but ultimately \u003cb\u003ebrims with hope for intrapersonal change\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003ci\u003eThe Horn Book\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003eInspiring, hopeful, and very necessary.\u003c\/b\u003e Glasgow leads with empathy in a subject that is far too often misunderstood and judged. Stunning in every sense of the word.” —Josh Silver, author of \u003ci\u003eHappyHead\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Glasgow’s characters are raw and nuanced individuals that feel like someone you used to know or could have been in a different life. Add to that Glasgow’s haunting lyricism and trademark ability to break your heart and remake it stronger, and you know why \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eThe Glass Girl\u003c\/i\u003e is a must-read\u003c\/b\u003e.” —Laura Nowlin, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eIf He Had Been with Me\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“I wish \u003ci\u003eThe Glass Girl\u003c\/i\u003e had been around when I was in high school. You don’t have to be a teen or have struggled with alcohol to need this book. You just have to be a human being. \u003cb\u003eEveryone needs this book.\u003c\/b\u003e” —Sloan Harlow, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eEverything We Never Said\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003eDeeply honest, wholly compassionate, and desperately needed\u003c\/b\u003e. I fell hard for Bella, a girl torn between her brain and her heart who carries far too much on her own at just fifteen—and who deserves so much better than to carry it alone.\u003ci\u003e The Glass Girl \u003c\/i\u003eis Kathleen Glasgow at her finest.”\u003ci\u003e —\u003c\/i\u003eMeredith Adamo, author of \u003ci\u003eNot Like Other Girls\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kathleen Glasgow has an unparalleled ability to breathe humanity into her characters, to make us hurt and hope and heal alongside them; it is this quality that shines most brightly in \u003ci\u003eThe Glass Girl\u003c\/i\u003e. \u003cb\u003eNothing short of a modern masterpiece\u003c\/b\u003e, it is a powerful, necessary, and gorgeously written journey into the depths of addiction—and there is no guide better equipped to lead readers through this darkness to a state of light, recovery, and hope than Glasgow.” —Amber Smith, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Way I Used to Be \u003c\/i\u003eand\u003ci\u003e The Way I Am Now\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003cb\u003eA fiercely powerful story of recovery, hope, redemption, and strength\u003c\/b\u003e. I read \u003ci\u003eThe Glass Girl\u003c\/i\u003e in one feverish, tear-soaked sitting, and it haunted me for weeks. It still haunts me in the very best way. Kathleen Glasgow’s prose is as beautiful and lyrical as her stories are unflinchingly honest and real. I wish I could press a copy into the hands of every teen and adult. Read this. It’s a masterpiece.” —Jennifer Niven, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eAll the Bright Places\u003c\/i\u003eKathleen Glasgow is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eGirl in Pieces, How to Make Friends with the Dark, You'd Be Home Now\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eThe Glass Girl\u003c\/i\u003e, and coauthor of \u003ci\u003eThe Agathas\u003c\/i\u003e and its sequel, \u003ci\u003eThe Night in Question,\u003c\/i\u003e written with Liz Lawson. She lives and writes in Tucson, Arizona.Friday\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e It’s like we’re playing spin the bottle, but without the actual bottle. I know exactly how it will go. The imaginary bottle will spin among us in a dizzying way and then slow, eventually pointing to me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Cherie doesn’t want to be the one. She says she’s not good at it, even though she’s only done it twice. She says she doesn’t like the way people look at her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Amber says forget it. Since she’s the only one with a car and a license, she drives and says that’s enough. If she has to stay sober, she shouldn’t be the one. I’m the ferry captain, she says. I’m navigating this drunken ship, so not me. She doesn’t like drinking, anyway. She tried it once and everything seemed okay; she was giggling along with the rest of us in Kristen’s room as we passed Dixie cups of creme de menthe around, but then she vomited in her lap. We had to undress her and put her in the shower, me volunteering to stand in there with her so she wouldn’t fall. I shampooed the chunks of vomit from the ends of her long hair as she cried. It’s a good thing Kristen’s mom was at her boyfriend’s for the night. We found the creme de menthe on the very top shelf of a kitchen cabinet, the bottle dusty from neglect. It looked and smelled candyish, so we tried it. We were thirteen; what kid doesn’t like candy? Anyway, that was the first and only time for Amber.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kristen is pressed against the car door, pigtails with red bows fluttering in the wind drifting in the half-open window.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Bella, you do it. You’re the best. You don’t care,” she says, waving her vape pen.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “That’s so disgusting,” Amber tells her. “Sincerely gross.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Everything is gross when you think about it,” Kristen replies. “Who cares?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e In the back seat, next to Cherie, I sigh.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The bottle has landed on me. What Kristen said is what everyone always says to me, for everything, in various versions:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella, you do it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella, tell your sister it’s time to get off her tablet and come to dinner.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella, tell your father he’s late with the check again.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella, find out if that guy thinks I’m hot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella, I didn’t read the book, tell me what happened so I can write this stupid friggin’ paper.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella, Bella, Bella.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I close my eyes. I wish I was alone, but I’m not allowed to be alone, after Dylan, and I know I should be grateful my friends are trying to take care of me, but sometimes I just want some peace and quiet, no noise, nothing. Just . . . nothing.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sometimes it feels like I live in a pinball machine and I’m the scratched-up ball, being knocked from one nook to the next, lights blaring, bells ringing. I can never stop the game because I am the game.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Amber pulls up to the curb around the block from the store. Some of the red letters on the sign above the store have gone dark, so it reads L_ C_Y L_Q_ _R.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Lucky Liquor. Some of the older guys at school call it Lucy Licker. Me and Lucy Licker hung out last night. Explaining away puffy eyes, bad breath, as if anyone would actually care they were hungover. Honestly, no one ever cares what guys do. Only what girls do.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Everyone in the car is quiet, waiting for me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I make them wait a few minutes longer, like I always do. This is our routine. It never changes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e If Kristen drives, she says she can’t do it. If Amber isn’t driving, she says it makes her feel weird and she doesn’t really like drinking anyway, so everyone forgives her. Cherie never does it anymore because a gross dude once grabbed the pocket of her hoodie and ripped it off. It’s round and round, all the time, spin the bottle. It doesn’t matter what we play: the pebble of our booze hopscotch always lands on me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It lands on me because they know I’ll do it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella is always up for adventure. Bella will do it. Bella is good at it. Bella will come through. Bella, come on.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kristen and Cherie hold out their money and I listen to them breathe. Amber’s eyes are turned to the left, toward the darkness outside the driver’s-side window, so I can’t see them in the rearview. I think she’s mad, but she won’t say it out loud.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Fine, I say. Fine, you cowards. I snatch the money, warm and wrinkled, from their hands.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Bella, they say. Bella, you’re the best.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I’m not the best. I’m the worst. But it doesn’t matter. All I want right now is to dull the sharpness inside me. The stuff that no one can see. The stuff poking me and making me bleed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I open the car door and get out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There are rules you have to follow, things you have to remember.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Like waiting a little bit, but not too long, and not too close to the store or somebody might get suspicious. An older lady in a Lexus, pulling into the store, pretending she’s there just for Arizona Iced Tea and Altoids. Those ladies are righteously judgmental and need to be avoided, even though they’ll come out with plastic bags of wine they’ll probably finish in a couple of hours. I mean, come on. The reason they’re at this crappy liquor store in a crappy neighborhood is so nobody they know sees them buying all that wine in their own neighborhood. Because they drink a lot and don’t want anyone to know how much. And there’s always some old suit heading inside, frowning at the girl on the sidewalk (me) pretending to check her phone. You need something? he might say, his bald head shining. You lost? Even though that’s not really what he’s asking. You can tell because they always look you up and down. You can’t pick them. They’ll want to walk you back to the car, “make sure you’re safe,” check out your friends, be pervy. They probably have daughters and would die if they knew their daughters did this. We are all someone’s daughter.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e You have to choose carefully. It can never be a lady unless she’s slightly disheveled and kind of dumpy (flannel shirt, cigs in pocket, flip-flops), which signifies she doesn’t give a damn. She might do it, say, You be careful with your party, now, as she hands over the bag. Don’t get into any trouble.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It can be a guy in his twenties, maybe, but not too cool, not too slick, maybe lonely-looking (taped eyeglasses, T-shirt with inscrutable cultural reference, dirty sneakers), but you can’t let him think he can walk back to the car with you, or get your number, and you can’t talk to him too long or it turns into a thing, which did actually happen once and ended with Kristen literally catching the guy’s fingers in the car window as she furiously rolled it up, him calling us names, and Amber hitting the gas. We screamed hysterically in the car, everyone’s voices blending together in a high pitch, but soon enough we were buzzed (not Amber) and laughing hysterically. That’s the kind of nice thing about drinking: what seemed to be one thing becomes an entirely different thing once you’re drunk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e That can also be bad but I’m trying to stay away from bad stuff and thoughts. Like Dylan. Which was definitely a situation where one thing became another, and not in a good way. That was the night I had what Kristen refers to as Bella’s Extremely Unfortunate Public Downfall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Anyway, you need a person who doesn’t care. A person going into the store for their own reasons. You want a person who doesn’t even bat an eye, just listens to you and takes the money and comes back with their bag and gives you yours and takes the change and goes back to their car or walks down the sidewalk into the night without even saying goodbye or where you partying or be safe, because they’ve got to get on with the night, too. You need to scope out who is absolutely here for alcohol, who has to have it now, like you, and doesn’t mind making an extra ten for their trouble.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e You have to make it quick and clean. Blunt. I’ve learned a lot just from the few times we’ve done it this way.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Hey, will you buy me a fifth of vodka? You can keep the change.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e You want a guy. Oldish, hair messy, ball cap, band T-shirt under a sports jacket, shuffling along in his low-rise Converse, smelling like cigarettes. Like one of my dad’s friends, actually: used to be in a band “or something” and on the wrong side of cool now. Maybe thought he’d be a rock star, but now he’s cubicle-bound during the day, dreams dead and gone in a blur of Excel spreadsheets. All he’s got comes from this store.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e On the sidewalk, I jiggle my toes inside my sneakers, pretending to scroll on my phone but peeking up furtively every few seconds to scope out the situation. If I’m being honest, I don’t actually mind doing this, because I know where I’ll end up: feeling better. And a tiny part of me gets a little thrill from it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then I see him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I can tell; he’ll do it. This guy doesn’t give a damn. Eyes on the sidewalk; doesn’t care if I’m cute or hot or not. He doesn’t give a crap about me. He’s here for the same thing I am: to get drunk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Right when he’s about to pass me by, out it comes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Hey, could you buy me some vodka? You can keep the extra money.” I make sure my voice is neutral my face expressionless. “A fifth. Not the little bottle.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He doesn’t stop to stare at me. Look me up and down like the guys in suits. He’s got things to do.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He barely stops. Nods. His hands have ink on them and his skin is dry as he takes the money and says, “Yeah, sure.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There’s always that moment when my heart beats too quickly and my hairline prickles with sweat. Will he come out and take off in the opposite direction? I can’t chase someone down. Will he come back and walk right by me, give me an evil grin, and say Stupid kid as he taps the bags and keeps going? That’s happened a couple of times.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I track his progress through the barred glass windows of the store. Chips aisle, Gatorade, beer cooler, liquor aisle, then the counter, his lips moving, his nod to the cashier, the bottles being bagged up, my heart still racing, my palms a little wet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I text Kristen. All good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e She texts back. Hero.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The gentle bing-bong bell of the door as he pushes it open and walks across the parking lot to the back edge, where I’m standing on the sidewalk, half hidden by a shrub.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e He’s got the bag in one hand and a case of beer in the other, the Gatorade shoved in his jacket pocket, its weight making the fabric sag.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Cheers,” he says, and that’s that, he’s gone, shuffling down the sidewalk.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When I’m back inside the car, Kristen and Cherie cheer, but Amber stays silent.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Bella!” they shout. “Bella, our queen!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “First one’s mine,” I say, cracking the bottle and pouring as much as I think I can get away with into my half-empty bottle of Sprite.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It always is.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Amber is looking at me in the rearview mirror, her eyes darkening slightly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Jesus, take it easy,” she murmurs.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “It’s Friday,” I tell her. “Just chill.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e Kristen’s fingers tremble as she scrolls on her phone. The nights are getting colder and she’s not even wearing a hoodie or anything, just a thin tank top and jeans with holes in the knees. The tips of her ponytails brush against her bony shoulders. “People are hanging at Cole’s,” she says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e At the exact same time, Amber and Cherie say “No” and point to me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Kristen sighs, shoving her phone in the back pocket of her jeans and jumping up and down to keep warm.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e We’re sitting on a picnic bench in the park, just four girls with bottles of Sprite and a bag of cheese popcorn on a Friday night. Innocence and fun. We won’t be able to stay here long. The park closes at ten, and there are some sketchy-looking people drifting around.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e But for now we’re okay. I take a long sip of my drink, the vodka spreading in my body like a rush of warm water. The feeling I’ve wanted all day.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “You guys are like hobos, you know, boozing it up in the park,” Amber says.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e One by one, we giggle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “What else are we supposed to do, Amber?” Cherie asks. “There’s nothing to do.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It seems like such a long time ago that we just stayed in, watching movies, practicing cat’s-eye makeup with YouTube videos, falling asleep in heaps of blankets and pajamas and messy ponytails, and now here we are. This is what we do. The park or parties or someone’s garage. It’s what everybody does.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e How did it change, and where and when? This is just kind of life now. There was a life before, and sometimes it seems like one day I woke up and everything was different.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I don’t really like to think about it, how things changed so suddenly, because then I’d have to think about Laurel, and thinking of her feels like being squeezed by a very large, mean person. So tight that I can’t get away and I can’t breathe.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “How long is she going to be on social probation anyway? This is getting old.” Kristen turns to me. “Can you just get over him, already?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I raise my head and take a long drink of my Sprodka, as Cherie calls it. The combination of sweet and strong feels good as it goes down. I start to loosen. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Sometimes I’m so wound up I think my body is going to crack in a million pieces.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Okay, not sometimes. All the time.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I’m totally over him,” I say, keeping my voice smooth and light. “I’ve loved and lost and learned my lesson.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Liar,” Amber says, scrolling on her phone.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Agree,” Cherie says. “I saw you staring at him yesterday in the courtyard. You totally looked ready to cry.” Her hand on my back is gentle.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e The tiniest pain races through my heart when she does that, so I take another sip and move slightly to make her hand fall away.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “You can’t go to any parties until we’re sure you won’t flip out again,” Amber says, looking up from her phone. “That last time was bad.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “It was kind of funny, in retrospect,” Kristen says. “Bella’s Extremely Unfortunate Public Downfall.” She takes out her vape pen.","brand":"Delacorte Press","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":48233673687269,"sku":"NP9780525708117","price":14.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780525708117.jpg?v=1767739554","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-glass-girl-isbn-9780525708117","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}