{"product_id":"while-were-young-isbn-9780593813959","title":"While We're Young","description":"\u003cb\u003eA \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER • A whirlwind romance inspired by \u003ci\u003eFerris Bueller’s Day Off\u003c\/i\u003e about four friends whose hearts are broken and mended over the course of an epic senior skip day—from the bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Summer of Broken Rules\u003c\/i\u003e!\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGrace, Isa, and Everett used to be an inseparable trio before their love lives became a tangled mess. For starters, Grace is secretly in love with Everett, who used to go out with Isa before breaking her heart in the infamous Freshman Year Fracture. And, oh yeah, no one knows that Isa has been hanging out with James, Grace’s brother—and if Grace finds out, it could ruin their friendship. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWith graduation fast approaching, Grace decides an unsanctioned senior skip day in Philadelphia might be just what they need to fix things. All she has to do is convince Isa to help her kidnap Everett and outmaneuver James, who’s certain his sister is up to something.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eIn an epic day that includes racing up the famous Rocky steps, taste-testing Philly's finest cheesesteaks, and even crashing a wedding, their secrets are bound to collide. But can their hearts withstand the wreckage?\u003cb\u003eA Booklist Top 10 YA Romance!\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \"\u003ci\u003eWhile We’re Young\u003c\/i\u003e takes all the relationship drama of three years in \u003ci\u003eThe Summer I Turned Pretty\u003c\/i\u003e and puts it all into one book instead of a trilogy.\" —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eScreenrant\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“K. L. Walther has written a sweeping, swoony romance that’ll take your breath away! While We’re Young is a stunning love letter to friendship, first love, and the city of Philadelphia. Don’t read this one on an empty stomach!” —\u003cb\u003eElle Gonzalez Rose\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003e10 Things I Hate About Prom\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“K. L. Walther delivers her signature blend of humor, heart, and swoony romance in a hilarious modern-day retelling of “Ferris Bueller’s Day Off.” Told from four unique perspectives, While We’re Young perfectly captures the essence of friendship and the exhilarating rush of unexpected adventure.” —\u003cb\u003eRobin Reul\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eMy Kind of Crazy\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eWhere the Road Leads Us\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“While We’re Young is equal parts delicious romantic longing, hilarious hijinks, and a tribute to the power of friendship. Get ready for an immensely enjoyable adventure!” —\u003cb\u003eBecky Dean\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eLove \u0026amp; Other Great Expectations\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Brings Ferris Bueller’s senior skip day adventures to today’s teens, with a Taylor Swift soundtrack and a fresh cast of characters who share the timeless goal of leaving high school with no regrets . . . might tempt even the strictest rule follower to be a little reckless.” —\u003cb\u003eKaitlyn Hill\u003c\/b\u003e, author of \u003ci\u003eWild About You \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e“Readers are in for an absolute treat with Walther’s latest.” —\u003cb\u003eLiz Lawson\u003c\/b\u003e, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the Agathas series \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e★ \"\u003cb\u003eA delightful whirlwind.\u003c\/b\u003e Filled with romance and shenanigans in spades, it effortlessly captures the rush of being young and doing something the adults wouldn’t like but is, nevertheless, exactly what you need.\" —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e, starred review\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"With a plot that has romance, humor, and complications, \u003cb\u003ethis book will especially ­appeal to fans of Sarah Dessen, Kasie West, and Katherine Center\u003c\/b\u003e.\" —\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003eSchool Library Journal\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Rom-com fans will love this joyride through Philadelphia.\" —\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003eKirkus Reviews\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eK.L. Walther\u003c\/b\u003e is the \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eUSA Today\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eThe Summer of Broken Rules\u003c\/i\u003e, \u003ci\u003eWhat Happens After Midnight\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eMaybe Meant to Be\u003c\/i\u003e. She was born and raised in the rolling hills of Bucks County, Pennsylvania surrounded by family, dogs, and books. Her childhood was spent traveling the northeastern seaboard to play ice hockey. She attended a boarding school in New Jersey and went on to earn a B.A. in English from the University of Virginia. She is happiest on the beach with a book, cheering for the New York Rangers, or enjoying a rom-com while digging into a big bowl of popcorn and M\u0026amp;Ms.\u003cb\u003eCHAPTER 1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e GRACE\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My mother found me in the bathroom. “Grace?” she said, and in a heartbeat she was at my side. “Gracie? What’s wrong?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I slowly lifted my head from the toilet seat and, with violet sleep-­deprived eyes, gave her my most lethargic of looks. I hadn’t looked this wiped since running in our town’s Spring Fling 10K the morning after junior prom. “Don’t feel well,” I mumbled. “Puked last night.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh, sweetheart . . .” She took a reluctant peek into the toilet, where a smoothie-­like blend of dinner and dessert swirled in the bowl. If you tried hard enough, you could recognize a pulled pork sandwich, coleslaw, baked beans, and an ice cream sundae. Mint chocolate chip with hot fudge, whipped cream, and M\u0026amp;Ms. It had been \u003ci\u003edelicious.\u003c\/i\u003e “Scott!” my mom called. “Scott!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I’m sorry,” I moaned when my father arrived, his blue-­and-­gray tie half knotted. “It happened in my room, too.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My dad crouched down next to me. “Why didn’t you come get us?” he asked as I curled into a ball on our bath mat and started shivering. He put a warm hand on my back.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I didn’t want to wake you,” I said. “You both have those big meetings today.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e There was a moment of silence. I imagined my parents using their couple superpower, communicating with only their eyes. \u003ci\u003eWell, what do you think?\u003c\/i\u003e my mom was probably asking.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eI think we should get her to bed,\u003c\/i\u003e I hoped my dad was answering.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “What’s going on?” another voice said, and the three of us turned to see James in the doorway. I’d heard him playing his keyboard earlier, our family’s morning alarm, but now he was dressed in jeans and a well-­worn concert T-shirt from The National’s last tour and was shoveling Lucky Charms into his mouth.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Your sister has a stomach bug,” our mom said. “She’s been throwing up all night.” She sighed. “James, you know there’s no food allowed upstairs.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e It was one of the new rules, to keep the house spotless for eventual showings.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My brother lowered his cereal bowl, and I swallowed—­now really and truly nauseous. James cocked his head with interest. “All night, huh?” He slurped some more cereal. “Too bad I didn’t hear you.” His smirk sped up my pulse. “I could’ve held your hair back.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Let’s get you to your room, Gracie,” Dad said, helping me to my feet. “We’ll put a bucket by your bedside—­”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Wait, are you serious?” James cut in incredulously. “She gets to stay home?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Of course,” Mom told him, flushing the toilet for emphasis. “We don’t want her spewing all over Council Rock North.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I doubt there’s anything left in her stomach to spew,” James grumbled, then said, “Last month you made me go to school with a \u003ci\u003efever.\u003c\/i\u003e”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003eYes,\u003c\/i\u003e I thought. \u003ci\u003eA fever brought on by a hair dryer.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e (It hadn’t been his best performance.)\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Because you have too many absences, James!” Mom said. “Principal Unger called us.” She threw up her hands. “I don’t even know how to explain half of them!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My school-­skipping brother backed down and turned to me. “May I have the car keys, please?” he asked. “Since you’ll be bedridden today, dearest twin?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. While we were both seniors, James and I weren’t technically twins; we’d been born ten months apart. He was older and eternally irked that our shared Subaru was known as “Grace Barbour’s car” at school.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “No, wait, it’s okay,” I said, making a weak attempt at collecting myself. “I should go to school. James is right; there’s nothing left in my stomach. As long as I don’t eat . . .” I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed a hand to my abdomen, as if waiting for a cramp to pass. “I’ll be fine.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My dad kept his arm firmly around my shoulders. “Are you sure?”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Yeah.” I nodded. “I’m student body president.” My voice floated up, up, and away—­lightheaded, I was so lightheaded. “My people need me.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Jesus Christ,” James said. “Put the powermonger to bed.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The keys are in my backpack’s side pocket,” I told him before letting our parents escort me out of the bathroom and down the hall.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Oh, wow,” my mom commented when she saw the crime scene in my room: brown sludge spurted across my beige rug. I might not have been successful, but it looked like I’d at least \u003ci\u003eattempted\u003c\/i\u003e to make a run for the toilet.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Carpet cleaner,” my dad said as I climbed into bed. He pulled up my covers, tucking me in like when I was little. “Relax, Kim. We’ll get the carpet cleaner and it’ll be good as new.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I thought otherwise. If I did say so myself, I’d done such a worthy job that a professional would need to be brought in to achieve a good-­as-­new level of cleanliness.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Now, text us,” my dad told me a few minutes later, after spraying the foaming cleanser. My mom had run outside to catch James and give him my absence note. “Okay? If you need anything, don’t hesitate to text.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Through my window, I saw James back out of the driveway and speed off toward school. He was pissed. “Okay.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Or call,” my mom added, coming back into my room. “If something’s really wrong.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I will.” I snuggled into my pillow. “But I wish one of you could stay. . . .”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e My parents exchanged a look. I knew they were considering it, but at the same time, I knew they weren’t. Again, they had those meetings, and I was seventeen, not seven. I could look after myself.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “So do we, kiddo.” My dad kissed the top of my head. “But I’ll be home at six sharp, don’t worry.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “I’ll try my best to swing by at lunch,” my mom said. “If you’re feeling better, I’ll make you a nice broth.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Mmm, that sounds yummy.” My eyes drifted shut, and I murmured in my faraway voice, “I love you.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “We love you, too,” they harmonized before backing out of the room and quietly closing the door.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Then I listened. I listened to them finish getting ready for work; I listened to their murmured conversation as they headed downstairs; I listened to them say goodbye to our dog; I listened to the familiar \u003ci\u003ebing\u003c\/i\u003e of the front door opening and shutting; and I listened to the hum of their cars.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e And once they were gone, most likely en route to the drive-­thru Starbucks (even though we had a perfectly capable Nespresso machine here at home!), I sat up in bed and threw back my covers. \u003ci\u003eAnd, scene!\u003c\/i\u003e as my drama teacher would’ve said.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e I had plans for today, and none of them involved school.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e V­\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e After unlocking my phone and tapping its screen a few times, my favorite eighties music pulsed through our Sonos speakers. Most of the songs were cheesy, but I loved them. Belting out lyrics, I danced out of my room and into James’s. Per usual, his bed was unmade and clothes covered the floor, but his extensive vinyl collection sat organized on his big bookshelf—­Adele? Frankie Valli? Kendrick Lamar? The \u003ci\u003eLa La Land\u003c\/i\u003e score? He owned it—­and his beloved keyboard waited under the window. “Who’s the master now?” I asked the empty room. “Tell me, tell me, tell me!”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Truthfully, it was still him. James had perfected the art of fake illnesses over the years, always shooting for something specific yet also vague. His faux congested voice deserved an Academy Award, and I’d never forget the time I caught him licking his palms. “For clammy hands,” he’d told me, minutes before our mom had diagnosed him with the sweats and sent him back to bed. “Always a standby.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Not only had I licked my palms this morning, but I’d also patted my face with saliva. The skincare routine of super­models, I’m sure.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e When my alarm had beeped at five a.m., I’d tried not to laugh as I crept down to the kitchen to make a fresh sundae and let it melt while mixing together some of last night’s barbeque leftovers. No one would hear me; my parents were part of the CBD oil cult, and James slept with headphones. \u003ci\u003eCombine in Cuisinart,\u003c\/i\u003e I thought, \u003ci\u003ethen blend with liquefied dessert.\u003c\/i\u003e I’d chewed up a handful of M\u0026amp;Ms and spit them in the bowl, along with a crumbled slice of cornbread. A bit of texture couldn’t hurt, could it?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e Once I was back upstairs, I’d spattered half the concoction on my floor and dumped some more in the toilet before digging out my makeup and watching a YouTube tutorial on how to create believable bags under my eyes. It was tedious, and part of me was shocked that my parents hadn’t seen through the scam. Maybe I had a future as a makeup artist in Hollywood?","brand":"Delacorte Romance","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303269847269,"sku":"NP9780593813959","price":14.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780593813959.jpg?v=1767744103","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/while-were-young-isbn-9780593813959","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}