faith in the face of so many everyday deaths: apathy, fear, pride.
Sometimes that touch, that squeeze of a hand, that arm around the shoulders, it tells us that we are not in this alone. And for me, Rennick made all the difference.
We were in this together. I knew that.
We’d figure out what to do with the burning coil beneath my ribs, that power, always ready, always there. I would use it, I knew that, to help others. One day at a time. There was no big master plan that needed to be made. Not just one decision. But rather a million little decisions made each day, over and over. A million yeses.
This was my life. In flux. Always. The aura of my life being painted and repainted daily, unfolding itself as a thing of beauty in the process. With me working and learning and hoping, so that each stroke, each color, each decision might add a little more beauty, a little more peace, a little more hope. Adding up to a piece of wonder.
I took in a deep breath of the cool autumn air and held it there in my lungs.
The possibilities now seemed endless.
And I was caught off guard by my optimism, here, in the moment. How impossible it had seemed such a short time ago, to be on the other side of the paralyzing grief of losing my sister.
But here I was. Here
And that made all the difference.
Acknowledgments
So many thanks to those who’ve made such a big difference to me as a writer and to this story: Chuck and Judy Simonich, Caryn Wiseman, Chelsea Eberly, Suzy Capozzi, and the entire team at Random House Books for Young Readers.
To my circle—my colorful, lively, brilliant circle—I love you all so dearly. Thank you for your constant humor and inspiration: Cooper, Clarke, Maddie, Alex, Rebecca, Hannah, Jonah, Jacob, Henry, and, of course, Jack, Maia, and Zoe.
Last but not least, for Greg, a million yeses.
About the author
GINA LINKO has a graduate degree in creative writing from DePaul University and lives outside Chicago with her husband and three children. She teaches college English part-time, but her real passion is sitting down to an empty screen and asking herself, “What if …?”
