Foreclosures have brought in the flippers-the people who swoop in on bank-owned properties and fix them up for a profit. The real estate biz in this corner of SoCal is booming. Things are slow anyway.” Her voice is two octaves higher than usual. “What about work? You’ve missed a lot of days because of me.” She didn’t hammer me for skipping out on seeing this “amazing herbalist-slash-psychic-healer.” Still, I know she was disappointed in me. “After breakfast, I’m taking you to that appointment you missed yesterday,” she says quickly.įeeling guilty, I look away. I’ll check over the blender later, make sure it’s working okay. Forcing a smile, I sip chunks of raw broccoli that slipped by the blender’s blades. I would rather eat broken glass mixed with cyanide, but for Mom, I guess I can manage this. Speaking of acceptance… Yeah, Mom’s adamant that five doctors on two continents are wrong and that I’ll make a miraculous recovery. Noticing I haven’t touched a single morsel, Mom says, “Will you at least have the kale, broccoli and goji berry smoothie? You don’t even have to chew. The cobalt-blue board I learned to surf on? I’m giving that to a kid down the street whether he likes it or not. Mom won’t have to go through boxes of my middle-school clothes after I’m gone because I’ve already dropped them off at Goodwill. I’ve even started giving some of my stuff away. With the help of a counselor I’ve gotten to the stage of mostly accepting that I’m headed for a dead end. Then again, I’ve peeked at my medical records. They can’t predict the exact number of months, days, hours, and seconds a person has left on Earth. Why does it have to be like this? Maybe the doctors got it wrong. Yet another reason why I shouldn’t die so young. Except the perpetually hungry neighbors and her five employees. He’s making custom surfboards, connecting with old friends, so I know he’ll be okay. Dad moved back to Australia after the divorce. Fortunately, the family next door is more than happy to take excess lentil loaf off our hands.Įvery hour of every day, I wonder what will happen to Mom after I go. This doesn’t stop her from testing all the “cancer-fighting” recipes she finds on Pinterest. Since my diagnosis a few months ago, Mom hasn’t been eating much either. With her fork, she scoops up a tiny portion of kale, hardly enough to fill a mouse’s belly. “Oh, I’m having some, too,” she says in an overly bright voice. “And you don’t have to go out of your way to make this for me. My mother winces at my choice of words, then makes a big effort to put on a happy face like she always does. I shuffle onto the seat and stare at the food. “Hey, Alex!” She smiles over her coffee mug and pats the stool next to her. A thick, football-field-green smoothie sits in a tall glass by the blender.
She looks pretty chill for someone who just laid on a breakfast of fruit salad, yogurt, sautèed mushrooms and kale, unbuttered whole-wheat sourdough and two eggs, sunny-side up. “Around six the next morning, I find Mom sitting at the island bench in the kitchen. ~ Tina Ferraro, author of THE ABCs OF KISSING BOYS “Edgy, and yet wonderfully tender, LIVE FAST, DIE YOUNG sent me to reader heaven!” He’s in love with Molly and he’s going to tell her before it’s too late. Instead, he’s going to drop out, surf, drive fast cars…and finally put secret number two out there. And hanging around hospitals when his friends think he’s cutting school definitely counts as wasted time. With six months to live, Alex hasn’t got a second to waste. Alex needs to get back on the path to the Ivy League.
With so much at stake, some serious interference is called for-or at least Micromanaging Molly thinks so. He’s gone from straight-A student to rebel without a cause. Molly Corbett can’t stand seeing her childhood pal Alex Gibson destroy himself. Release day for Vanessa Barneveld’s YA novella, LIVE FAST, DIE YOUNG, is here!
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