{"product_id":"zen-and-gone-isbn-9781641290319","title":"Zen and Gone","description":"\u003cb\u003eWith another aching deep dive into human spirituality, Emily France mines her home state of Colorado in a novel of a teen girl's harrowing search for her missing younger sister—and her own search for self.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e Born and raised in Boulder, Colorado, Essence McKree feels older than any seventeen-year-old she knows. Ever since weed was legalized, her mother has been working in a pot shop, high more often than not. Lately it’s been up to Essa to care for her nine-year-old sister, Puck. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eWhen Essa meets Oliver—a brainy indoor type who’s in town for the summer—she is cautious at first, distrustful of the tourist crowd and suspicious of Oliver’s mysterious past in Chicago. But Puck is charmed and pushes Essa toward him. Soon Essa finds herself showing Oliver the Boulder she has forgotten: the mountain parties, the long hikes . . . and at Oliver’s urging, the exploration of Buddhism at the local zendo. When Oliver agrees to accompany Essa on a three-day survival game in the Rocky Mountains, she feels a lightness she hasn’t known in a long time. Then she discovers that Puck has stowed away and followed them into the wilderness. After spending a night stuck in a mountain storm, Essa wakes to find Puck missing. Now Essa must rely on her newfound spiritual strength if she is to save her sister’s life, and ultimately her own.\u003cu\u003e\u003cb\u003ePraise for\u003ci\u003e Zen and Gone\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e2018 Reading the West Book Award Winner for Young Adult\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eA July 2018 \u003ci\u003eWashington Post\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book for Young Readers\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"The romance, family dramas and physical danger keep us turning the pages, but the generous embrace of the spiritual truly enriches this reading experience.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cb\u003e—The Washington Post\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"As wild as it is heartwarming.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Paste Magazine\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eZen and Gone \u003c\/i\u003ereminds us that we are all connected, we all matter, and we are all loved. By lifting up others, we lift up ourselves.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author Lauren Myracle   \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cu\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\"Memorable. This is a beautiful, gentle, contemplative story certain to both fascinate and educate readers about a new way of encountering the world and all the challenges within it.\" \u003cbr\u003e—\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e, Starred Review\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Imbued with an exceptionally strong sense of a fascinating place and organized around the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path, the novel offers a beginner’s lesson in Buddhist principles as they might actually be lived in a contemporary American setting.\"\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e​\u003ci\u003e​\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—The Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"With a host of deftly drawn characters, Emily France’s \u003ci\u003eZen and Gone\u003c\/i\u003e is a paean to the multicultural mountain mecca of Boulder.\"\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—BookPage  \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"A​ fast-paced read. Blending romance, thrills, drama, and philosophy, this novel delivers a strong message about being present with life even when it hurts​.\"  \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e—Kirkus Reviews​\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Two teens face outsize family responsibility in this thoughtful novel about mindfulness and survival.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e \u003ci\u003e—Booklist ​ \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I absolutely adored this book.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—YA Cafe Podcast\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"France’s actors are authentic and easy to relate to. The novel’s Boulder setting is equally well-drawn. Amidst crisis, there is humor, teen angst and—you guessed it, readers—even a little romance.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e —\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003eRun Spot Run ​ \u003c\/b\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e \u003cu\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003ePraise for \u003ci\u003eSigns of You\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/u\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e \"Gripping, enigmatic, and moving, \u003ci\u003eSigns of You\u003c\/i\u003e will  stay with   readers long after they’ve turned the last page. France  masterfully   plumbs the depths of the human heart as she layers  mysticism,   friendship, wit, and grief in this story about four teens  looking for   meaning and love after the deaths of people close to them.\"\u003ci\u003e  \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Ingrid Law, Newbery Honor winner and \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e Bestselling author of \u003ci\u003eSavvy\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"Alternatingly laugh-out-loud funny, tear-inducing sad, and goose-bump spooky. This is a mystery with a heart, and one that is very hard to put down.\"\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Jodi Lynn Anderson, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMidnight at the Electric\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “An irresistible force of nature [that] felt like it was written just for me, and made me want everyone else to read it immediately.”\u003cbr\u003e —\u003cb\u003eGwenda Bond, bestselling author of the Lois Lane series \u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Eerie and intense, \u003ci\u003eSigns of You\u003c\/i\u003e explores   the mysteries of life and what comes after. A vibrant debut from a   compelling new voice in young adult literature. This is a book that   stays with you long after you’ve savored the last page.\"          \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Melanie Crowder, author of \u003ci\u003eAudacity\u003c\/i\u003e, a National Jewish Book Awards Finalist\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\"\u003ci\u003eSigns of You\u003c\/i\u003e has   an engaging mystery at its center, one that will keep readers turning   the pages as Riley and her friends try to understand the supernatural   world that surrounds them. But it is the heart-wrenchingly profound   questions that will stick with you long after you've finished. In her   funny, suspenseful and romantic debut novel, Emily France beautifully   shows us how a person can live fully in the face of unfathomable loss.\" \u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cb\u003e—Deborah Heiligman, \u003cb\u003eNational Book Award Finalist and Printz Honoree author\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eEmily France is the critically acclaimed young adult author of \u003ci\u003eSigns of You \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eZen and Gone, \u003c\/i\u003ea July 2018 \u003ci\u003eWashington Post\u003c\/i\u003e Best Book for Young Readers.  She graduated from Brown University and also holds an MFA in Creative  Writing and a JD. She lives in sunny Colorado with her husband and son.  Her Zen practice is the taproot of her inspiration. Connect with her  online at emilyfrancebooks.com.\u003cb\u003e1\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e ESSA\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e It was her job to keep Puck safe.\u003cbr\u003e      Puck—Essa’s nine-year-old sister, the budding genius, the girl she lived for. The royal pain in the ass who wasn’t supposed to be on this trip in the first place. It was Essa’s job to keep an ear out, an eye out, to be aware of any danger. It always had been. But it was especially true up here. Especially true tonight.\u003cbr\u003e      Essa bolted upright, her eyes wide. She saw nothing but consuming blackness.\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eWas that a noise?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eFootsteps?\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      It couldn’t be the deadfall; they hadn’t reset it after they’d caught a mouse. Essa rubbed her hands together for warmth, wiggled her icy toes inside her boots, pulled her knees to her chest. Her eyes adjusted to the night, and she could see snippets of moonlight sneaking through gaps in the walls of their tiny brush shelter. A stiff mountain wind whistled through the pine boughs and dead leaves they’d layered to keep the weather out. They’d been stuck in the storm for hours; everything had gotten wet. Even though it was June, Essa was cold.\u003cbr\u003e She knew it couldn’t be true, but she felt like it had dipped into the thirties.\u003cbr\u003e      She shifted on the forest floor. They’d forgotten to cover it with a layer of brush to insulate them before they went to sleep. All night, a chill had been reaching up from the ground, climbing through her thin hiking pants, sliding down her legs, wrapping around her ankles and toes. It felt like it had a mind of its own, the cold. Like it was out for her, thrilled that they were here, ten thousand feet up in the Mummy Range, lost, with barely the clothes on their backs. Like it was determined to make one thing understood:\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eIf you make it out of here alive, don’t come back.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      She heard it again.\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eSnap.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      Louder this time. She couldn’t tell if it was coming from inside or outside. She looked up at their shelter roof, but couldn’t see well enough to check the large tree branch they’d used as the main support beam. She hoped her bowline knot was holding.\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eShuffle. Snap.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      She heard it again, and this time, she was sure it was outside the shelter. She told herself it was a raccoon sniffing around their camp. She told herself it wasn’t a bear that was about to rip through the sides of their pitiful homemade walls and attack. That it wasn’t the random creepy guy they saw earlier walking through the woods. That he wasn’t out there, stalking them in the darkness, lurking with an ax.\u003cbr\u003e      She tried to calm down and picture herself back in the Zendo in Boulder, meditating on a cushion. She imagined that the sounds outside the shelter were nothing but the gentle shuffling of her Zen teacher’s robes as he settled just before zazen. It was one of her favorite sounds.\u003cbr\u003e      Silently she recited the gatha she’d crafted with her teacher:\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eBreathing in, I know my breath is the wheel of the ship.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eBreathing out, I know the storm will pass.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      Her mind didn’t stay with her breathing. It did what it normally did: it reached for thoughts like a frantic monkey, grasping at one random idea after the other, feeding on disorder, on chaos. She thought about her mom back down in Boulder, more out of control by the day. About her best friend Micah, gently snoring next to her. How annoying he’d been at the party two weeks ago with the weed gummies he’d snatched from Pure Buds. She thought about sitting by the campfire last night, outside their shelter, after everyone else had gone to sleep. Exhausted. Wet. Cold. Her belly aching with hunger, getting nothing from a granola bar and a few sips of pine needle tea. Afraid to eat the food they’d brought, not sure how long it was going to have to last. She thought about the soft firelight on Oliver’s skin. Oliver, the boy from Chicago she’d met not even a month ago. The one who felt so familiar, so fast. The one with the sister who was sick; the one who seemed to understand. The one who had pulled her close and kissed her . . .\u003cbr\u003e      She tried to return to her breath.\u003cbr\u003e      To another gatha.\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eFears are clouds drifting by a mountain.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eWatch them. Tend to them.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eBut know\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eYou’re the mountain.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      Another sound split the night.\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eCrack.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      It was even closer. Something or someone was out there. She reached over and nudged Micah. “Hey,” she hissed. “Get up. I hear something.”\u003cbr\u003e       “Dude,” Micah groaned. He snorted briefly and rolled over and went back to sleep. She shook him again.\u003cbr\u003e       “Wake up. Seriously.” When he didn’t move, she grabbed a handful of his thick black hair and gave it a few firm tugs.\u003cbr\u003e       “What the hell?”\u003cbr\u003e       “I hear something,” she hissed again. “Outside.”\u003cbr\u003e      Micah propped himself on one arm to listen. Just outside the shelter, off to their right, she heard it again. Movement. Footsteps. Or something being dragged along the ground.\u003cbr\u003e       “Probably just a raccoon,” Micah mumbled. But he didn’t sound convinced. “We have no food in here for a bear to come after. It’s all outside. Unless you count the mouse I roasted last night. And man, this ground is \u003ci\u003eice cold.\u003c\/i\u003e”\u003cbr\u003e       “We smell like \u003ci\u003epeople\u003c\/i\u003e,” she said. “That’s all the incentive a bear needs.”\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eCrack. Snap.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      The sounds rang through the darkness. Her mind flashed to the guide Oliver left back in the car. They were in the Comanche Peak Wilderness. Full of bears, mountain lions, coyotes. Fear sent her mind racing through other things that could be out there: Serial killers? Runaway felons? Ghosts?\u003cbr\u003e       “What if it’s that guy we saw?” she whispered.\u003cbr\u003e      She noticed for the first time that she was shivering. Her arms and chest quaked as she thought about the random guy they’d seen in the woods before they’d realized they were lost. He wasn’t wearing stuff hikers or hunters wore. He was in baggy black cotton pants. A preppy blue sweater. A straw fedora. Rubbery black plastic clogs and white socks. He looked wildly out of place, like a snake in the bottom of a kid’s toy chest. A knife tangled up in your bedsheets. He claimed he was out looking for the site of a plane crash. Essa knew there was a trail to an old WWII B17 crash site somewhere in the area. But the man claimed the plane had been his grandfather’s, that it had been full of valuable Japanese antiques. He said he’d been searching the woods for years, looking for any that might have survived the crash. He said no one believed him.\u003cbr\u003e      Essa didn’t, either.\u003cbr\u003e      She shivered again and wondered if it was the cold or the fear making her core temperature drop. “You think he could’ve followed us?”\u003cbr\u003e       “Dude. Chill,” Micah said. “That guy was harmless. Just a crazy dude out for a hike.”\u003cbr\u003e      Goosebumps tumbled down Essa’s spine, and instinctively, she leaned over and reached for Puck. Last night, Puck had gone to sleep at her side, Essa’s face nuzzled in her sister’s tangled blonde hair, the smell of Puck’s cherry lollipop dinner wafting up her nose. Now she gently felt in the darkness for the reassurance of Puck’s tiny, warm body.\u003cbr\u003e      Her hand landed on cold ground.\u003cbr\u003e      She groped in the dark a little farther to the left. And then to the right.\u003cbr\u003e       “Puck?”\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eSilence.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e       “Puck!” Essa hissed, frantically searching. “Puck!”\u003cbr\u003e      Her breath hitched in the back of her throat, but she tried to stay calm. Maybe Puck had rolled over to a new spot in the night. Essa strained her eyes in the darkness, but she couldn’t see. “Micah? Is she next to you?”\u003cbr\u003e      She heard Micah search the shelter around him. “No. I don’t feel her.”\u003cbr\u003e       “Nudge Oliver awake,” Essa said.\u003cbr\u003e       “He’s not over here, either.”\u003cbr\u003e       “Oliver? Puck?”\u003cbr\u003e      No one answered. A cold wind hissed through the shelter wall next to her. She knocked into Micah as she scrambled onto all fours, searching every inch of their tiny home, running her hands along the ground, up the walls. She felt Puck’s backpack.\u003cbr\u003e       “That’s probably what we heard outside,” Micah said. “They probably got up to go to the bathroom or—”\u003cbr\u003e      Essa didn’t wait to hear the end of his sentence. She bolted out the small exit hole of the shelter and got to her feet.\u003cbr\u003e       “Puck!” she called into the dark woods. It felt like her voice was swallowed by the rushing wind around her. It died down for just a moment. “Puck! Oliver?”\u003cbr\u003e      \u003ci\u003eSilence.\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e      She looked into the sky, searching for the moon, begging it to shine down on their camp, to light up Puck’s stringy blonde hair, her blueberry eyes, her lips that were perpetually candy-stained red. But the moon was nearly doused, obscured by clouds and a muddy, stubborn blackness.\u003cbr\u003e      Puck was gone.\u003cbr\u003e      And so was Oliver.","brand":"Soho Teen","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46303188222181,"sku":"NP9781641290319","price":10.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9781641290319.jpg?v=1767744868","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/zen-and-gone-isbn-9781641290319","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}