Deadly Design (9780698173613) Read online

  “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” I tell her, and the sympathy in her eyes turns to concern.

  “Are you all right?” The grip of her hand tightening around mine. “You’re healthy, right? You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

  Her deep brown eyes fill with fear.

  “I fine. I’m going to be around for very long time.” I stare at her, marveling at the way the morning light brings out tiny strands of auburn in her hair. I look into her eyes, and what could possibly be wrong?

  I’m alive.

  I pull her toward me and hold her as I think about those who didn’t survive.

  I wish all the years Edward Bartholomew gave me could be turned into a birthday cake for Connor. I’d resurrect him and all the others, and we’d slice the years up—every person— every superior—getting an equal number. Maybe they wouldn’t divide up to be that many, but it wouldn’t matter, because we’d make sure they were good years. The best.

  I love the thought of all of us together having a party. Triagon could play the piano, and Hannah could dance. Amber could fix up her hair and wear a gorgeous dress, and we’d line up to kiss her, because . . . well, who wouldn’t?

  Cami pulls away, and she must see the slight smile on my face. “What are you thinking about?”

  I smile back, because right now I’m young and she’s young, and really, no one knows how much time they’re going to have. And if there’s one thing I know Connor would like to tell me, it’s live. Just live. And I intend to. And I’ll hold on to Cami as tightly as I can, because there’s one thing I know for sure: it’s going to be one hell of a ride.

  Acknowledgments

  Writing is such a solitary act. Inside each writer are voices that both encourage us and dissuade us. And when an outside voice sounds, the voice that tells the writer that they’ve created something worth reading, it’s beyond amazing.

  Thank you, Arielle Eckstut and David Henry Sterry, for being two of those voices and for not only choosing me as the winner of their Pitchapalooza contest, but for being the first to really believe in Kyle and his story. Thank you for going above and beyond and for introducing me to my amazing agent, Ayesha Pande.

  Ayesha, I can never thank you enough for your support and guidance and, most of all, for your belief in this story and in me. Validation is like air to a writer, and after years of holding my breath, you made it possible for me to breathe. I could write thank you a million times but in the interest of conserving paper I’ll just give you one gigantic “THANK YOU!”

  Stacey, I’m so happy your name has an e in it. I don’t know if you remember our first conversation, but my daughter told me that I should only trust you if you spelled your name with an e. For an eleven-year-old, she was very bright. I trusted you with my story and with Kyle. You took both and transformed them into more than I could have ever imagined. You and Kate put me through my paces, and I loved every minute of it. Thank you, Stacey Barney and Kate Meltzer, for teaching me so much about the craft of writing and for making Kyle’s world and story an even better one.

  Bringing a book to life takes so many people, and I have to thank my entire Putnam team: Lindsey Andrews, Irene Vandervoort, Annie Ericsson, Cindy Howle, Ana Deboo, Rob Farren, Adrian James, and Jennifer Dee.

  Robyn Hill, thank you for being the best beta reader a writer and friend could hope for. Thank you for your support and your belief in Kyle’s story and for the dozens of red pens who sacrificed themselves so that Deadly Design could make it to readers everywhere. And mostly, thank you for the hours you spent with Kyle and Jimmy and all the others. Couldn’t have achieved this without you!

  Thanks to Julie, Sharon, and Ciera for being my young-adult guinea pigs.

  A huge thanks to my family for giving me the space and time I needed to write. Usually it’s a parent’s job to believe in and encourage their children in their dreams. Thank you for believing in mine. And thanks for doing the dishes and laundry and for figuring out dinner and for knowing that if I’m in a bad mood, it’s because I need to write.

  And thank you, Mom and Dad, for always making me believe I could achieve anything if I tried hard enough.

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