When I first wrote this story, Ali Greenleaf didn’t have a voice. She was raped and the story ended. But as I grew—and as my understanding of myself developed from years and years of working with a very good therapist, as I understood rape culture, as I understood that this behavior didn’t happen in a bubble—the story grew.
I’ve written for publications including The New York Times, The Atlantic, Marie Claire, Lenny Letter, The New York Times Magazine, and more. And in many ways, I approached this book like a journalist: I researched, I fact-checked, I interviewed experts, I pored over articles and journals. I worked with an authenticity reader who gave valuable insight and feedback. Even with all of this research and my desire to get things right, there still might be mistakes that are my own. I also know that despite my best efforts, some people will still feel that this story isn’t fully accurate to their experiences.
I hope reading Something Happened to Ali Greenleaf will have opened your mind to the complexities of sexual assault. I hope it gives you insight into what the act of surviving looks like. But as much as this book is about female rage and the aftermath of sexual assault, it’s also about the beauty of female friendships, as well as their worrisome dynamics. These girls often treat each other in the way teenage girls aren’t supposed to treat each other. Girls today are expected to have evolved beyond the mean-girl trope. But it’s important to show that while, yes, teenage girls can be compassionate and forgiving, they can also be complicated and dark. And sometimes menacing.
Lastly, if you’ve jumped ahead to read this note because you are wondering, What kind of person wrote this book? and What is her backstory? and you feel too overwhelmed to dive back in . . . then close the book. Stop reading. Give yourself some time for it to settle. Seriously, I will not take offense.
Ali and Blythe find a way to heal through writing. It’s how I’ve found a way to heal too. For me, writing is breathing. Writing is meditating. Writing is the map that leads me outside of my mind. Writing can also feel, as the New York journalist Sid Zion once told me, like being boiled with a pot of hot dogs. So, look, writing is not always the answer, and it can be incredibly frustrating, but it can get you to understand yourself, and it can be an incredible release.
Even if you just write something down in a journal and chuck it in the trash. Put those words on the paper and leave them there. Don’t look back. Sometimes that’s enough. So do that, will you? Grab a journal and write.
Hayley
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
First and foremost, I want to thank my parents, Amy Krischer and Norman Krischer, for always supporting me, for being my biggest fans, for always embracing my creativity and my eccentricities. I love you both with all of my heart.
To my agent, Emily Sylvan Kim, who believed in me since the beginning, never wavering. Not once. I will forever be indebted to your belief in me, your honesty, and your sage advice.
To Julie Rosenberg, for being not just an editor, but my partner in all of this. I feel like we’ve been dual therapists for my characters—you have such an empathetic soul for all of them, understanding them with such great compassion and treating them as if they’re your own. I’m so grateful for all that you do and for giving me this opportunity.
To the Razorbill and Penguin Teen team, Casey McIntyre, Alex Sanchez, Gretchen Durning, Jayne Ziemba, Wendy Dopkin, Marinda Valenti, Abigail Powers, Liz Lunn, Tessa Meischeid, and Bri Lockhart. Writing a book is solitary until it is not, and having a team like all of you is a writer’s dream.
Thank you to my cover designer, Samira Iravani, and to Monica Loya for your original artwork. You brought Ali to life and I cannot thank you enough.
The female friendships are the most important relationships in this book for very good reason. I had the most loyal best friends in high school, who rallied around me and got me through some of the worst times of my life. Without them, I probably wouldn’t be here, and I certainly wouldn’t have this book. Thank you, Jessica Sherman, Amy Griffiths, Irene Stamos, and Liz Adams, for reading my first-ever YA book when we were seventeen, for watching Heathers with me over and over, and for embracing my specific level of crazy. Thank you, Liz, for being my own personal Sammi, for rescuing me from too many situations to count and counseling me through practically every crisis in my life.
I also have to thank my girl gang, Beth Block, Sara Kaye, and Miriam Rosenberg, my anchors, my traveling partners, my therapists, my spiritual leaders, and for holding me tight and never letting me go.
My sister-in-law Melissa Adler, my creative brainstorming partner. Like Oprah Winfrey said about Gayle King: Melissa, taka, you are my mother and my sister. You are the friend that everybody deserves.
My therapist, Iris Ascher (because every writer has to thank her therapist). Iris, you gave me vision and insight; you blessed me with boundaries and taught me self-worth.
To my brother David Krischer and my sister-in-law Brandi Morris. I’m so lucky to have your wisdom, your friendship, your heart, and your understanding.
Thank you to all of the Adlers and Solomons, for being my tribe, with Mel and Eileen at the helm. Thank you for making me feel loved in this big boisterous family that you’ve created. I’m so grateful.
A tremendous amount of research went into this book. Special thanks to Bernard Lefkowitz, author of Our Guys, a detailed account of the Glen Ridge rape case, which was instrumental to the writing of this book.
Thank you to Grace Brown, the photographer behind Project
