I’m ready in no time. All those weeks throwing long tosses for Lucy the “Lab-Hound” have strengthened my arm, and I feel like I could go seven innings. For the team’s sake, of course, I hope I need to go only one.


From up here, I can see the oak sapling growing near the football field. The young tree was planted last week by the senior class as part of this year’s traditional gift to the school. The tree was Bailey’s idea, but Stephen Rice, as the MMHS senior-class president, made it reality.


In front of the tree sits a marble monument with a plaque listing the fallen heroes of Middle Merion High: alumni who died as service members, cops, firefighters, or EMTs. My brother John is the most recent name, and I hope it stays that way.


“Play ball!” the umpire shouts. I take Miguel’s signal for a changeup, then glance briefly at Kane covering third base. He offers the subtlest of nods as his second opinion. They’re both right: With my fastball’s reputation, this pitch is what they’d be least expecting.


Inside my glove, my thumb and pinkie meet, pulling the ball deep into my palm. The batter is a thick-set guy who looks like he could send the ball to Atlantic City with one swing. He stares me down, wanting so badly to be a hero.


“Not tonight,” I whisper.


What the pitcher wants most is nothing. If I retire these batters, Brandon’ll get the win, and he’d deserve it. I’ll get a save. I like the sound of that.


But life isn’t baseball. Life is life. So off the field, I’m coaching myself to save only me. It’s odd not worrying about everyone else, letting their mistakes and triumphs be their own. The future is as far from perfect and as full of errors as this baseball game, but at this moment, it’s all mine.


And I guess that’s something.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

The beliefs or lack thereof portrayed in this book belong to the characters, not the author. Those who comb these pages for a religious or anti-religious agenda will be left scratching their heads. It’s just about this boy, y’know?

One belief I share with David and Bailey concerns the awesomeness of Arcade Fire. This novel would not be the same without their second album, Neon Bible. While Funeral depicts the innocence of childhood and The Suburbs deals with adulthood’s longing to return to that innocence, Neon Bible is about adolescence, when many of us first learn that the world can hurt us. Neon Bible and this novel both chronicle the struggle to retain hope in the face of this revelation.

All Scripture quotes are taken from the World English Bible, the only translation currently in public domain across the planet.


I cannot recommend enough H. A. Dorfman’s The Mental Guide to Baseball. This sports psychologist offers wisdom that can be applied to any occupation, especially writing. It taught me how to tune out distracting thoughts and focus on the next sentence, and the next, and the next. Read it, even if you hate baseball.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I journeyed more deeply into the Writing Cave with this book than any before, so first thanks go to my friends, family, and readers who waited patiently for me to emerge.

Beta readers abounded! I would’ve been lost without feedback from Amy Oelkers, Cecilia Ready, Lindsay Ribar, Erin Schultz, Rob Staeger, Jennifer Strand, and Matt Youngbauer. Extra kudos to those who read multiple drafts: Karen Alderman, Stephanie Kuehnert, and Frankie Diane Mallis. Thanks to TSgt. Mark Garton, USAF (ret.), for help with Air Force matters. Any remaining errors are totally mine.

I’ve never thanked a novel in a novel before, but after reading David Levithan’s Every Day, I jotted this in my journal: “Note to self: write this book with all your heart. Write it to make people feel the way you felt after reading Every Day. Write it with beauty and compassion and empathy. Don’t hold back. Feel. Love.”

To the amazing YA authors at our desert writing retreat who shared their wisdom or just listened to me angst over my new endeavor: Kelley Armstrong, Holly Black, Kimberly Derting, Nancy Holder, Sophie Jordan, Alma Katsu, Stephanie Kuehnert, Melissa Marr, Sarah Rees Brennan, Beth Revis, Carrie Ryan, and Rachel Vincent.

To the Simon Pulse team for saying a hearty “Yes!” to something new and different: Bethany Buck, Mara Anastas, Katherine Devendorf, Anna McKean, Paul Crichton, Lucille Rettino, Carolyn Swerdloff, Stephanie Evans-Biggins, Jeannie Ng, and [Proofreader TK].

To my visionary agent Ginger, for replying to my text on May 20, 2011 (Harold Camping’s predicted Rapture date)—“Calling dibs on teen novel abt kid whose parents make him ditch his friends/gf & blow off homework to get ready for the Rapture, which never comes”—with “Ok! Call that dibs on Twitter, and it’s official.” It wasn’t, of course, until a few months later, which brings me to . . .

To Annette Pollert, who believed my crazy idea would work! I’m deeply grateful to her for giving me the kind of creative freedom and trust most authors only dream of.

Always, always, always . . . biggest thanks to my husband, Christian Ready, for his love and patience; and for reminding me that every manuscript is always “the worst book ever,” until one day it isn’t.