{"product_id":"again-againisbn-9780385744799","title":"Again Again","description":"\u003cb\u003eThis twisty novel from the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eWe Were Liars\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eGenuine Fraud\u003c\/i\u003e asks: \u003ci\u003eWhat if there were infinite universes and infinite ways to fall in love\u003c\/i\u003e?\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003eIf you could live your life again, what would you do differently?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter a near-fatal family catastrophe and an unexpected romantic upheaval, Adelaide Buchwald finds herself catapulted into a summer of wild possibility, during which she will fall in and out of love a thousand times--while finally confronting the secrets she keeps, her ideas about love, and the weird grandiosity of the human mind.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eA raw, funny story that will surprise you over and over, Again Again gives us an indelible heroine grappling with the terrible and wonderful problem of loving other people.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\"Inventive, philosophical and romantic.\" --GAYLE FORMAN, #1 New York Times bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eIf I Stay\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eDon't miss, \u003ci\u003eFamily of Liars\u003c\/i\u003e, the eagerly anticipated prequel to the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling phenomenon, \u003ci\u003eWe Were Liars\u003c\/i\u003e. Available in May 2022!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cp\u003e“E. Lockhart has done it again in this \u003cb\u003etwisty, inventive, philosophical and romantic story \u003c\/b\u003eabout the many ways a person can find, lose, and understand love.” —GAYLE FORMAN, #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eIf I Stay\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"My favorite books are those that are hilarious, poignant, utterly unique and \u003cb\u003ebrimming with realistic, loveable characters \u003c\/b\u003e(preferably including dogs). This book doesn't just have all these elements. It has them \u003cb\u003ein multiple universes\u003c\/b\u003e. I loved it.\" —JACLYN MORIARTY, author of \u003ci\u003eGravity Is the Thing\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e“What if falling in love had infinite possibilities and multiple universes exist? \u003cb\u003eA lyrical read\u003c\/b\u003e that’s also fun as it addresses myriad truths.” —\u003ci\u003eSLJ,\u003c\/i\u003e starred review\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “The story of a messy, normal life where connecting authentically with others is perilously hit-or-miss but\u003cb\u003e worth the heartache for what you learn about yourself\u003c\/b\u003e.” \u003ci\u003e—Booklist, s\u003c\/i\u003etarred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Cleverly constructed. . . . \u003cb\u003eUnfolds with surprising grace and ease.\u003c\/b\u003e” —\u003ci\u003eThe Bulletin\u003c\/i\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “\u003cb\u003eLockhart takes her penchant for plot twists to a new level\u003c\/b\u003e, with a narrative that explores the idea of the multiverse. . . . An iterative feast of ideas about art, possibility, and the creative process for readers hungry for big concepts. Others will simply luxuriate in the storytelling.” —\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “What begins as a typical YA romance becomes a thoughtful exploration of expectations. \u003cb\u003eA subversive exploration of the diverging pathways of the human heart.\u003c\/b\u003e” \u003ci\u003e—Kirkus Reviews\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \"\u003cb\u003eAn offbeat, philosophical love story \u003c\/b\u003efor those who enjoy pondering the mysteries of the universe or the heart.\" \u003ci\u003e—The Horn Book\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “This \u003cb\u003esurprising and charming\u003c\/b\u003e YA novel explores one teenager’s existential angst about relationships-romantic, platonic, family and canine.”\u003ci\u003e —Shelf Awareness\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003cb\u003eHer prose and storytelling ability are unparalleled in YA\u003c\/b\u003e. . . . I want to read every story she decides to tell.” \u003ci\u003e—BookPage\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003eE. Lockhart is the author of the\u003ci\u003e New York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling novels \u003ci\u003eWe Were Liars\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eGenuine Fraud\u003c\/i\u003e. Her other books include \u003ci\u003eFly on the Wall, Dramarama, The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks\u003c\/i\u003e, and the Ruby Oliver Quartet: \u003ci\u003eThe Boyfriend List, The Boy Book, The Treasure Map of Boys,\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eReal Live Boyfriends.\u003c\/i\u003e Emily lives in Brooklyn, New York. Visit her online at EmilyLockhart.com and follow @elockhart on Twitter.\u003cp\u003e1\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA Love Story \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThis story takes place in a number of worlds. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut mostly in two. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was the third day of Adelaide Buchwald’s summer job, the summer after her junior year at boarding school. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat summer she would fall in and out of love more than once, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein different ways \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein different possible worlds. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIn every world, she was consumed with the intense contradictions of her heart. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide wanted to be rescued and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshe wanted independence. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe was inclined to laziness, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecuriosity, and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emagical thinking. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe was all charm and yet deeply miserable. She was a liar and she hated liars. She loved both truly and wrongheadedly. She appreciated beauty. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHer job was to walk five dogs, morning and night. They belonged to teachers who were on summer vacation. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEllaBella, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Voldemort, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRabbit, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ePretzel, and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe Great God Pan. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThose were the dogs. The morning she met Jack, Adelaide took them all to the dog run on the Alabaster Preparatory Academy campus. The run was a sandy space, fenced in and surrounded by trees. Looking through the leaves, she could see the spire of the Alabaster clock tower. She unleashed the dogs and sat on a bench while they frolicked. She listened to podcasts about stupid celebrities she didn’t even care about, trying to stop thinking about Mikey Double L. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide threw balls for the dogs. She threw sticks. She collected poop in small plastic bags, then threw them in the trash. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEllaBella said, You’re a gentle human. Can I lean on you? And Adelaide let the dog lean. She stroked EllaBella’s shaggy head. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe texted her mom about the breakup with Mikey. She had already told her dad the little she thought he needed to know. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide and her father, Levi Buchwald, had moved to Alabaster Prep for her junior year of high school. Adelaide lived in a dormitory, and Levi in Alabaster faculty housing. His new home was a small wooden house on the edge of campus. It was furnished with flea-market buys and overloaded with books. He was an English teacher. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide’s mother, Rebecca, and her little brother, Toby, had spent the year together in a rental house in Baltimore. Toby was very sick. Rebecca was taking care of him. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRebecca was a knitter. She used to own a store called the Good Sheep Yarn Shop, where she taught classes. Much of her home was dedicated to wicker baskets overflowing with skeins of yarn. And plants, which she tended semi-obsessively. Rebecca was a person who focused very intently on the people, plants, and yarn in front of her. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe texted Adelaide back immediately about Mikey: \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOh blergh. I’m sorry. You okay? \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide lied. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYeah. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat happened? \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe last thing Adelaide wanted to do was tell her mother the story of Mikey Double L.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e… \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e… \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWell, I’m here if you want to talk. Hug!  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eRebecca often used the fat, spouting whale emoji. Adelaide had no idea what it was meant to symbolize. She wrote back. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBreakup was probably for the best anyway. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was sad. But I slept it off and had eggs for breakfast, and now I’m feeling much better. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eYou’re very mature.  \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide was not at all mature. And the breakup wasn’t for the best. But she didn’t want her mother to spiral into anxiety. That was something Rebecca was inclined to do, with Adelaide off at boarding school. She wanted to hear that Adelaide ate well, stayed hydrated, got regular exercise, and slept enough. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhen Rebecca spiraled into worry, the result was a series of phone calls filled with urgent requests for reassurance and connection that ended in Adelaide yelling at her mother, so Adelaide had devised a plan of regular texts giving evidence of those desirable behaviors. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“But I slept it off and had eggs for breakfast, and now I’m feeling much better” was what Rebecca needed to hear. Not \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m puffy and dehydrated from crying and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor breakfast I ate two Hershey bars and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etruthfully I feel \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eunlovable \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand ugly, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estupid \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand broken. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI wish I could get a giant injection that would turn off my thoughts.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI would let a creepy doctor with a secret basement lab shoot a \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erandom glowing substance into my ear if I knew it would stop me from feeling the way I do. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLast night, I tried binge-watching baking shows and then \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI tried binge-watching zombie shows and then \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI tried listening to happy music and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eputting on a ton of makeup. So much makeup. Then my \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeyebrows (with their makeup) looked scary and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etheir scariness made me depressed. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI was depressed by my own eyebrows. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI would have tried smoking cigarettes if I’d had any, and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI would have drunk Dad’s booze if he had any, but no luck on mind-altering substances, so \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI passed out at three a.m. and when I woke up \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI felt even worse and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy pillowcase was stained with lipstick.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo. She couldn’t say that to her mother. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide just sent the text about the good breakfast and the night’s sleep. She added a zebra emoji for good measure, thinking Rebecca would like it. Then she put her phone in her pocket. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe Great God Pan lay on the ground, releasing gas. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEllaBella stayed close, pressing against Adelaide’s leg. I am thinking you have dog treats in your pocket, she said sweetly. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLord Voldemort and Pretzel played chase. Rabbit growled at something on the other side of the fence. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd suddenly, a boy appeared. He was already in the run when Adelaide saw him, standing under a tree. He had a fluffy white dog on a leash. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide recognized the dog. It was B-Cake. B-Cake belonged to Sunny Kaspian-Lee. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA beat later, Adelaide recognized the boy as well, though she was sure she’d never seen him at Alabaster. He had a sweet V-shaped face and full lips. He was broad in the shoulders, with a narrow nose, smooth-shaven face, delicate ears. His light brown hair was wavy and a little wild. He was the sort of person you’d see immortalized in Roman statuary, his skin a warm Mediterranean olive, his chin and neck strong. He wore a light cotton jacket, a blue T-shirt, loose jeans, and green suede sneakers with blue stripes. The sleeves of the jacket were rolled up. His hands had the slight squashy look of leftover baby fat. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe knew him. She was certain of it. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe nodded at her, walked over, and draped himself onto the bench. There was something unusual going on with one of his legs. He walked with a roll of his left hip, and the fabric of his jeans flapped around that leg. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe remembered his walk.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e The boy released the clip on the leash. B-Cake zoomed over to Rabbit and Rabbit exploded into the air with an anxious yip. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy laughed, covering his mouth with his fist. “Poor puppy,” he said. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, do I remember you?” she asked. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Me? I don’t know.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m pretty sure I do remember you,” she said. “From Boston. Two years ago. We met at a rooftop party when I was in ninth grade.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“A party on whose rooftop?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I don’t know. A friend of my friend. It was cold and you let me wear your scarf. Remember?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy shook his head. “I have a radically terrible memory. Sorry.” Then he took out his phone. “ ’Scuse me, I’ve got to make a call.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, do I remember you?” Adelaide asked. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Me?” he said. “I don’t know.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m pretty sure I do remember you,” she said. “From Boston.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’ve never been to Boston,” he said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hey, do I remember you?” Adelaide asked. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Me? I don’t know.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m pretty sure I do remember you,” she said. “I’m\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epretty sure, in fact, that you took my number at a party two years ago and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou never, ever texted me, is what I’m\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epretty sure of. I’m\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epretty sure you’re the kind of terrible human being who says \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGive me your number \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen he doesn’t actually want the number, and I’m \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epretty sure that’s not the kind of human being I need to talk to ever again, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eespecially not right now, when Mikey Double L is off to Puerto Rico full of virtue and \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emy entire sense of myself is \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003equite frankly \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eon the verge of liquidation.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay then,” he said. “I don’t need to make conversation.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m pretty sure I do remember you,” Adelaide said. “From Boston. Two years ago. We met at a rooftop party.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Really?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You were writing in a notebook,” she explained. “We started talking.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What was I writing?”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide flushed. She\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewanted to tell the boy the answer, and also, she \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t want to tell him. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“We talked about dinosaurs, I think, and which ones we’d like to turn into.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Velociraptor, obviously,” said the boy. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“That’s what you said, but you’re one hundred percent wrong,” said Adelaide. “Pterodactyl.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Oh, you’re right,” he said. “Pterodactyl is better. Flight is always better.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I used to have a fear of plesiosaurs,” she told him. “Do you know about plesiosaurs? They were like, giant naked turtles with sea-monster necks.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe laughed. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“At the rooftop party, you gave me your scarf,” continued Adelaide. “A red and black one. You said I could use it but to give it back, because it wasn’t even yours, it was your cousin’s.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Was I wearing a terrible leather jacket? Like a trying-too-hard jacket?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yes.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Then it was me,” he said. “But I can’t remember.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“My ride was leaving and I gave the scarf back to you, and you ripped a page from your notebook. You gave me the page and you had written me a poem: \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCerulean dress and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewide eyes, like a lion. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA raging wave of disobedient hair. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe contains \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003econtradictions.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I wrote you a poem?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You did.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide was sad he didn’t remember. Maybe he gave poems to a lot of girls. Or maybe he just couldn’t be expected to recall a party from two and a half years ago, when they would both have been only fourteen. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I think poems, sometimes,” she told him. “Often, actually. But I rarely write them down.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Do you still have the one I wrote you?” he asked. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was in her wallet. “Maybe somewhere,” she told him. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAdelaide had asked people if they knew a boy of his description, a boy with a roll of his hip, a poet, a boy with soft-looking wrists and golden skin and bitten nails. She had looked for him again and again as she sat in coffeehouses, as she waited in line for a burrito. At parties or ramen places, she looked for his sweet, full mouth. She was holding on to the chance that something good might happen. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTo Adelaide, the boy was a promise. He promised her that \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehappiness could still exist, \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecould still be hers. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd that promise seemed even more important once the bad stuff started happening with Toby. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen the Buchwald family left Boston. They moved to Baltimore for Toby’s treatment. Adelaide had accepted that she’d never see the boy in the leather jacket, ever again. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNow here he was.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe picked up a tennis ball that was lying in the sand. “Birthday! Come here, boy.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“She’s a girl,” Adelaide said. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Come here, girl.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eB-Cake ignored him. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“She doesn’t fetch,” Adelaide told him. “I know that dog.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy laughed. “Okay. I don’t need to throw if she’s not into it.” He sat down. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Did you hurt your leg?” Adelaide asked. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No.” He didn’t speak for a moment. Then he said, “Actually, a plesiosaur bit me. I didn’t want to tell you because you seem to have a phobia.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Ha.” She chewed her lip. “Was that rude of me, asking?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“A little.” He sighed. “I was born this way. It’s a skeletal limb abnormality.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m sorry. I asked without thinking.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“You’re not entitled to the knowledge, is all. It’s my personal info. You know?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Okay.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“D’you want to ask me something intrusive now?” she said. “You can. I feel I owe you.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“No thanks.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Ask me.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“That’s all right.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Go on.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Fine. Ah, besides plesiosaurs, what scares you the most? Really, truly terrifies you?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“My brother,” Adelaide said, the answer coming out before she had time to craft an amusing reply.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe picked up a tennis ball that was lying in the sand. “Birthday! Come here, boy.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“She’s a girl,” Adelaide said. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Come here, girl.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eB-Cake ignored him. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“She doesn’t fetch,” Adelaide told him. “I know that dog.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy laughed. “Okay. I don’t need to throw if she’s not into it.” He sat down next to her. “I’m just taking her this weekend while the owner’s out of town. Are all of these yours?” He was talking about EllaBella, Rabbit, and the rest.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I just walk them.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe reached down to pet EllaBella, who was lying at Adelaide’s feet. “This dog is my favorite,” he said. “She has an excellent beard.” EllaBella was a bushy black mutt, nearly fifteen years old. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“She’s my favorite too,” Adelaide whispered. “But don’t tell the others.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eEllaBella was owned by Derrick Byrd, a single teacher of history. He’d come to Alabaster last year. He still had unpacked boxes in his house, which was two doors down from her dad’s. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I never tell secrets,” said the boy. She liked the way his mouth moved when he spoke. He had blue paint underneath his nails. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What did you paint?” she asked. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I have access to the art studio for the summer. I’m painting abstract shapes, I guess you’d call them. Things that look like other things but aren’t those things.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Like what?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“This one I’m doing--don’t laugh.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I won’t.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Well, you can laugh. It’s kind of a hippopotamus and it’s kind of a car. And also, it’s kind of a church. The meaning is what the viewer sees in it.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Hm.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m not getting the effect I want,” he said. “A lot of them look like blobs, not church hippos or whatever. It’s just the start of an idea.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“What year are you?” she asked. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Rising senior.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’ve never seen you. On campus.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe told her he had just transferred in. “My mother died six months ago.” She’d had leukemia. He and his father had just relocated from Spain. His dad used to teach at Alabaster and was now going to head the Modern Languages department. \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m so sorry,” Adelaide said. “About your mother.” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“Yeah, well. Thanks.” Lord Voldemort came up and wagged his stubby tail. “How come you walk so many dogs?” \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“The teachers go away on summer travel. My father teaches English, but this summer he’s working in Admissions for extra money. I got the idea to collect people’s dogs and take them out, morning and evening. I feed them, too.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e“I’m gonna get Birthday to fetch,” he said. “Watch me.”\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe chased after B-Cake, showing her the tennis ball. “You know you want it. Look at it, so yellow. Covered with awesome dog slime. Watch it, watch it!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Delacorte Press","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46304619954405,"sku":"NP9780385744799","price":18.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780385744799.jpg?v=1730757940","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/again-againisbn-9780385744799","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}