{"product_id":"daphne-isbn-9780593157039","title":"Daphne","description":"\u003cb\u003eHorror has a new name: Daphne. A brutal, enigmatic woman stalks a high school basketball team in a reimagining of the slasher genre by the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eBird Box\u003c\/i\u003e.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A superb serial killer novel and a great coming-of-age story.”—Gabino Iglesias, author of \u003ci\u003eThe Devil Takes You Home\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR: \u003ci\u003ePaste\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s the last summer for Kit Lamb: The last summer before college. The last summer with her high school basketball team, and with Dana, her best friend. The last summer before her life begins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut the night before the big game, one of the players tells a ghost story about Daphne, a girl who went to their school many years ago and died under mysterious circumstances. Some say she was murdered, others that she died by her own hand. And some say that Daphne is a murderer herself. They also say that Daphne is still out there, obsessed with revenge, and will appear to kill again anytime someone thinks about her.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAfter Kit hears the story, her teammates vanish, one by one, and Kit begins to suspect that the stories about Daphne are real . . . and to fear that her own mind is conjuring the killer. Now it’s a race against time as Kit searches for the truth behind the legend and learns to face her own fears—before the summer of her lifetime becomes the last summer of her life.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMixing a nostalgic coming-of-age story and an instantly iconic female villain with an innovative new vision of classic horror, \u003ci\u003eDaphne \u003c\/i\u003eis an unforgettable thriller as only Josh Malerman could imagine it.“\u003ci\u003eDaphne\u003c\/i\u003e is a superb serial killer novel and a great coming-of-age story. Josh Malerman delivers one of his best novels yet, and one of the most memorable villains in recent history. This is the literary equivalent of a defibrillator, and the shock will leave you feeling alive and wanting more.”\u003cb\u003e—Gabino Iglesias, author of \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Devil Takes You Home\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“\u003ci\u003eDaphne\u003c\/i\u003e is somehow both a terrifying serial killer story and a beautiful meditation on the psychic gulf between adolescence and adulthood. It left me sniffing for smoke and jumping at shadows.”\u003cb\u003e—Delilah S. Dawson, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Violence\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“This terrifying little book will get you just like Daphne does—first with curiosity, then fascination, and before you know it, you’re sucked in deep, and it’s too late. You’ll be triple-checking the locks and sleeping with all the lights in the house on bright, too afraid to close your eyes.”\u003cb\u003e—Peng Shepherd, \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Cartographers\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Welcome to Samhattan, Michigan, a place where Kit’s ever-looming anxiety of senior year and the threat of a monstrous ghost stalking her teammates are equally real and terrifying. \u003ci\u003eDaphne\u003c\/i\u003e is both a new spin on the slasher genre and a deeply rewarding novel about the nature of the horrors inside us.”\u003cb\u003e—Gwenda Bond, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eStranger Things: Suspicious Minds\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“A swift and fierce novel about collective forgetting, repression, anxiety, and fear—and above all a seemingly unstoppable villain . . . Sleek and scary, it looms larger and larger with every page.”\u003cb\u003e—Brian Evenson, author of \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Glassy, Burning Floor of Hell\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“If you don’t start your summer with a copy of this—crinkled spine, worn pages, crammed in the back pocket of your jeans—you’re doing it all wrong. \u003ci\u003eDaphne\u003c\/i\u003e will scare the bejesus out of you. This is Malerman at his best.”\u003cb\u003e—J. D. Barker, \u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e bestselling author of A Caller’s Game\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Key author Malerman delivers another winner.  . . . A thought-provoking and honest conversation about anxiety wrapped around a Freddy Krueger-esque slasher . . . For fans of cursed small towns like in Thomas Olde Heuvelt’s \u003ci\u003eHex, \u003c\/i\u003eor other fresh takes on the teen slasher like Jessica Guess’s \u003ci\u003eCirque Berserk\u003c\/i\u003e.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eLibrary Journal\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Malerman, whose first published novel, 2014’s \u003ci\u003eBird Box,\u003c\/i\u003e immediately established him as a horror voice to be reckoned with, outdoes himself here. A palpable feeling of evil permeates the book; like Kit, we are in a constant state of unease, wondering what is about to happen and whether Daphne really has returned, all these years later, to wreak havoc on the community. Genius at work.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e(\u003cb\u003estarred review\u003c\/b\u003e)\u003cb\u003eJosh Malerman\u003c\/b\u003e is a \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author and one of two singer-songwriters for the rock band The High Strung. His debut novel, \u003ci\u003eBird Box\u003c\/i\u003e, is the inspiration for the hit Netflix film of the same name. His other novels include \u003ci\u003eUnbury Carol\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eInspection\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eA House at the Bottom of a Lake\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eMalorie\u003c\/i\u003e, the sequel to \u003ci\u003eBird Box\u003c\/i\u003e. Malerman lives in Michigan with his fiancée, the artist-musician Allison Laakko.A tie game with summer-­league rivals, friends and family in the bleachers, the ball in your hand at the free-­throw line, is no time to ask the rim a question. Yet that’s what Kit Lamb does. Even as she lifts the ball, elbow in, left hand supporting, even as it seems like nothing could chop her focus, and nothing has yet, not in this game, not even when she made the and-­one that led to this moment. A question for the rim:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWill Daphne kill me?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKit almost laughs as she releases the ball. There’s a hitch in the shot to be sure. She’s embarrassed of her own question, even if nobody else could’ve heard.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe ball leaves her fingertips, the gym is haunted-­house quiet. But the question remains suspended in her head. And with it, the image of the woman Daphne, Kit’s own idea of her, the horrid centerpiece of Natasha Manksa’s Samhattan myth; Daphne in denim, Daphne with patches, Daphne the madwoman who smells of smoke and whiskey.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe ball goes through the net.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSo, that’s a yes. An answer Kit doesn’t have time to think about right now.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eChaps inbounds quick from the baseline, but one second is not enough for their star forward to get off a full-­court shot.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSamhattan wins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBy one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKit is mobbed by her teammates. So many howling voices, so much love. None louder than Dana, who is as sweaty as Kit; Dana, who shot a meager one for eleven but got the steal that led to Kit’s game-­winning three-­point play.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Legend!” Dana yells. “Legend!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKit can’t stop smiling. As they lift her up, as friends and schoolmates rush the floor. As music explodes through the gymnasium PA.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEven as she worries too.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNot about the answer the rim gave her. Not about that yes. Not yet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eFor Kit Lamb, success never feels entirely true. In moments when she’s supposed to be the winner, it’s more like she’s in a theatrical reproduction of someone else’s victory.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“LE-­GEND!” the other ballers shout.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe can see the players from Chaps on their knees, yes, heads hanging, yes. But did this really happen? Did she hit the game-­winning free throw with one second to play?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Holy shit,” she says, rising up now on the shoulders of her teammates, her best friends. “Holy shit!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s all becoming real now. The inviolability of this moment. It’s replaying behind her eyes. Or, rather, before them, as if she’s home, watching the triumphant sequence on SportsCenter. Who cares if there’s less than forty people in the gym?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWho cares about absolutely anything else in the entire world?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Legend!” Dana shouts again. Her visage: ardent mirth. Other girls pick up the shout. Even the parents holler. Kit’s own looked happily stunned. They even look a little younger. Coach Wanda steps before them and nods Kit’s way just as she’s interrupted: she’s gotta shake the hand of Chaps’s head coach. Wanda stresses this all the time: sportsmanship. No matter how much it hurts. But Kit is impressed her coach acknowledged decorum when it feels this good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWho can think of anything else?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe lights look particularly bright in the rafters. The gym feels like a mecca. A heaven. Nirvana. Kit has arrived somewhere. No, she doesn’t think this means she’ll be playing in the WNBA (though the vision does cross her mind; Betnijah Laney seeing this shot, Sue Bird winking); rather, she’s fantasized about this exact scenario a hundred thousand times, as Coach Wanda made the girls shoot free throws after every practice, at their most tired, at their worst, like they would be in a game. The place Kit has arrived is not a location but a goal: she is living a fantasy, and the fantasy is no longer that.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThis is true. Every bit of it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e. . . is the answer the rim gave her also true?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWill Daphne kill me?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eYes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd so maybe it’s not so improbable, after all, thinking of something else.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“LEGEND!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eEverybody is saying it, in rhythm, a chant. Le-­gend. As if Kit Lamb at the free-­throw line will one day be immortalized in stained glass high up the brick walls of the Samhattan High School gymnasium. The communal word echoes off the ceiling, curls out those open windows, circles Kit’s head like cartoon birds in a dream.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLE-­GEND\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLE-­GEND\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLike the legend of Daphne, told to the ballers last night, in the dark of Dana’s living room. Almost the entire team slept there to ensure nobody would stay up too late before the big game, yet wasn’t it Natasha’s story of the Woman Who Could Not Be Killed, the lumbering seven-­foot colossus in denim, wasn’t it that very story that kept Kit up all night, eyeing the darkness, thinking the very question she would eventually ask the rim at the free-­throw line tonight?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWill Daphne kill me?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLike she killed so many others . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“F*** this,” she says, still held aloft.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBecause this is not the time to feel bad. Now is not the time to punish herself for feeling good.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eSmiling (tempered now, though, and do her best friends notice?), she tries to remember a phrase she saw online, wrote down in her journal. Strong words that, she’s long hoped, might deter the next all-­out panic attack.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Why are you thinking about that?” she asks herself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo, this is not the time to be thinking about panic. Anxiety. Fear.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eBut she’s asked it. And, despite the cacophony in here, she heard herself ask it.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd the tremble she heard in her voice reminds her of the first she ever heard there:\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe night she called 911 on herself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHello? I think I’m dying . . .\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe looks to the gym doors. Sees they’re closed. Okay. She breathes a little better. Why? She doesn’t know. A feeling. Security. Nobody can get in without opening a door first. She looks to her friends below. Glad for the people she sees. Checks for another. One she might not know.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe wears makeup, Natasha said last night. To hide her blue face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Aren’t you so happy right now?” Natasha now asks. She’s holding up Kit’s right leg. Natasha hasn’t made a basket all year. Natasha is one of the funniest people Kit knows. That’s why hearing her tell that story last night was so unsettling.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNothing funny about that one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kit,” Natasha says, “they’re gonna hang your f***in’ jersey from the rafters.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Easy,” Coach Wanda says, stepping into the crush of players (and friends now, right? Yes, Kit recognizes their faces, all of them; good). Coach extends a hand up to Kit. “Heck of a shot, Lamb.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKit shakes the hand. Doesn’t want to think of the question she asked the rim but thinks of the question she asked the rim.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe rim has never lied to Kit. Not once.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAnd here the rim said yes.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eStop it now, she tells herself. You f***ing won. Then, to all: “We f***ing won!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eCoach Wanda is trying to get the girls to stop swearing, but it’s no use. Kit Lamb just hit the f***ing game-­winning free throw with a second to go on the holy-­shit clock.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eLet the ballers howl. Let them shout legend till they’re blue in the face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKit thinks of that, blue in the face, as the world continues to blur with excitement. She thinks of Natasha’s story, the seven-­footer named Daphne dying in her car, parked in her own garage, her bare hands gripping the wheel long after she died.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey say Samhattan’s paramedics pried those fingers loose with wrenches.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThey say Samhattan’s bogeywoman was blue in the face.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kit!” someone shouts. Should sound like unbridled joy. Sounds more like warning.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKit looks to the doors. One is open.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIs she going to have a panic attack . . . right now?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kit Lamb for the win!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe might. She knows this amplification well. It comes unannounced, of course. Nobody hears a panic attack coming. Not until it’s too close to dodge.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Kit!” Dana shouts. “We love you!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eKit smiles. Tempered, though.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“You stole the ball!” she calls back. And Dana makes a muscle with one arm. It’s funny. Kit should remember it forever. Will she? Or will her memory of this night always be centered on the anxiety she feels, held high in the sky on the shoulders of soulmates?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe wants to cry. So much triumph. So much love.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“KI-­IT! KI-­IT!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIt’s the nature of panic that it is believed by the sufferer. Kit’s never read about somebody avoiding an attack by telling themselves they’d gotten through the last one.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Okay, let me down,” Kit says. Not loud enough for her friends to hear. There’s heat at the base of her neck. Always the place it begins.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eShe looks to Dana. To Natasha. To Coach Wanda. To the doors. To those windows high up the brick walls.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWill Daphne kill me?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eNo. She refuses to let this question continue.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Daphne is a f***ing myth,” she says.New York Times bestselling author of Bird Box","brand":"Del Rey","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300532211941,"sku":"NP9780593157039","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593157039.jpg?v=1767724475","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/daphne-isbn-9780593157039","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}