Of course she knew they were there, but it wasn’t like she’d admit that.
Then they’d go to the basement and read their letters to their future selves. When Whitney realized that she and Mia had written almost the same thing, they’d hug and say how amazing it was.
Talk about amazing.
It was amazing to think how much Mia had changed since the beginning of freshman year. Four years ago she would have died before talking in front of even her orientation group. Now she was going to make a speech as valedictorian to more than a thousand people!
Mia drove her dad’s car to graduation because her parents were playing tennis, and she had to get there early to check in for her speech. She took the long way, meandering through downtown Hankinson, listening to music, thinking about Jeremiah. He’d already graduated from his high school in Kansas last week and made his speech as salutatorian. Mia had been teasing him because he was only number two in his graduating class and she was number one. He retaliated with his slightly higher SAT scores. Geek love all the way.
Mia went to the VIP room where the speakers were hanging out. She could hear people talking about how Gregor had been stung at Whitney’s party last night. Mia knew from Brock that they’d gotten to the ER in time. She was just reviewing her notecards when she heard Kyra Bauersmith say, “Did you hear that Zoe Laybourne is missing?”
Mia glared at Kyra. She still couldn’t stand her. That was one thing that hadn’t changed in four years.
“Missing?” asked a junior girl. She was one of the marshals who’d be leading in the graduating class while the marching band played “Pomp and Circumstance.”
“Yep,” Kyra said. “My dad says she took off last night, and no one knows where she is.” Kyra pursed her lips for emphasis. She was loving this. “Completely vanished. Which means, of course, that Sierra Laybourne isn’t coming to graduation. Bummer.”
Mia felt a rush of adrenaline. As she was driving around Hankinson this morning, she’d seen Zoe’s car! It was that fancy white BMW. But where? Crap. If she told Jake and the others that she’d seen Zoe’s car but didn’t know where, no one would believe her. Anyway, maybe Kyra was full of it about Zoe. She was definitely not someone to trust.
A half hour later, when Mia was onstage making her speech, she scanned the graduates for Zoe. The L section was a swirl of people in caps fanning themselves with programs. It was hard to tell anyone apart.
But then, when Mr. Bauersmith was presenting diplomas, he called, “Zoe Laybourne.”
Zoe didn’t come onstage.
The gym was silent.
At that moment Mia remembered where she’d seen Zoe’s car.
“I have to talk to you,” Mia whispered to Jake after the ceremony. She didn’t even go find her parents. “It’s about Zoe.”
Jake had been standing with Ted and Ted’s family. He took Mia’s elbow and steered her a few steps away.
“The thing is,” Mia said, sucking on her bottom lip, “I saw Zoe’s car in the lot behind that café, Bean, this morning. I drove past there maybe two hours ago.”
“Bean?” Jake asked. “We checked there last night.”
Just then Whitney and Gregor came over. Gregor didn’t look too bad, maybe a little puffy. Whitney was holding his hand tight, her forehead knotted in concern.
“Any news?” Whitney asked Jake. “Hey, Mia. Great speech.”
“Mia saw Zoe’s car behind Bean,” Jake said. “I have my bike. I’ll go over there. I know we were going to get the letters and you guys can do that, but—”
Mia reached into her bag for her dad’s car keys. “I’m parked out front. Let’s all go.”
ZOE
MAYBE IT WAS a lame hiding spot, but Keni had let her spend the night in the supply closet on a threadbare recliner that smelled like stale smoke and Earl Grey tea. Zoe had called Keni after midnight because she didn’t know where else to go and she was too tired to keep driving. Keni had just said, “Use the key. Feast on day-old scones.” Keni was awesome that way. She never asked too many questions.
Early that morning Zoe had splashed her face and rinsed out her mouth and helped Keni brew the coffees and set out the baked goods. Once customers started trickling in, she retreated back into the supply closet. There was no window in here and no fresh air. Her neck was tight and she probably smelled ripe. Also, her phone was dead, and Bean didn’t have a compatible charger. But in a way that was okay. She didn’t want to watch the time and think about how graduation was happening—or maybe it was already over? She didn’t want to see Aunt Jane’s texts. Those were breaking her heart more than anyone else’s. She loved Aunt Jane, but she couldn’t deal with her now.
Maybe she’d move to Los Angeles. It wasn’t like she’d live with her mom, but at least it was a place you could get lost. Then again, Sierra Laybourne’s daughter could never truly disappear. They always found you.
But what about when you’re also Rich Morrison’s daughter? What does that mean?
“You’re looking for Zoe?” Zoe heard Keni’s deep voice saying from out in the café. “You see—”
“Keni,” Jake was saying. “We know she’s been here.”
So . . . Jake had figured it out. It wasn’t like she’d hidden her car very well. She’d just parked it in the back lot, by the Dumpsters. Zoe pushed her hair behind her ears and opened the supply closet door. Only it wasn’t just Jake out there. It was Dinky’s friend Gregor and Whitney and that tall blond girl, Mia. Oh my god! It was her freshman orientation group. The first people she’d met when she got to Hankinson. They were all wearing their blue caps and gowns. They must have come right from graduation.
Zoe tried to clear her throat, but no sound was coming out. Jake’s arms were crossed over his chest. She’d hurt him. She could see it all over his face.
“Zoe,” Mia asked, “are you okay?”
Zoe shook her head slowly, and just like that, she started to cry. She bit down on the inside of her cheeks, but the tears kept coming. Jake walked over and wrapped her in a hug.
“Come home,” he said. “Come with us.”
“But . . .” Zoe whimpered, wiping at her face. What about the lies? What would she say to Aunt Jane? Or Rich? It was all such a mess.
“We’ll figure it out,” Jake said. “You’re not alone.”
Zoe was too teary to talk. But in that moment she knew she would stay in Hankinson and make sense of things. Maybe it was the worst decision of her life. But it was probably the best.
EPILOGUE
IN THE END they decided not to read the letters. They agreed to leave them in the hole inside the fire extinguisher cabinet until their ten-year reunion or a wrecking ball toppled the school and built a modern solar-paneled structure in its place—whichever came first.
Instead they sat on the curb behind Bean, drinking complimentary iced coffees that Keni gave them in exchange for taking the drama outside. They all pulled out their phones, except for Zoe, whose battery was dead, and responded to texts about why they’d disappeared from graduation. Whitney and Gregor made a plan to meet up with their families for lunch, where they had a reservation at a nearby restaurant. Mia was going to Lake Ontario with Brock for a “purely platonic picnic”—her words. Jake told his dad and Ted and Anna that he’d found Zoe, and then he loaned her his phone so she could text Aunt Jane and make a plan to talk it out.
“So . . . ten years?” Whitney asked as she and Gregor tossed their cups into the Dumpster.
“Ten years,” Mia said, smiling.
They all hugged and said congratulations and told Zoe that they hoped she was okay, and then they hugged again. It was hard to let go. Because right then, that moment, felt extraordinary. When they had written those letters at the beginning of high school, it hadn’t seemed like much. But now that they were at the end, they were feeling how extraordinary it was. Not necessarily the beginning and not really the end, either. It was the infinite in between, all those miniscule and major moments when they’d dipped
in and out of each other’s lives. That had been their journey and somehow, even though they hadn’t realized it, they’d been on it together.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Three years ago, I went out for coffee with a friend from my son’s school. Over steaming soy Americanos, I said, “I have an idea for a new novel. It’s all formed in my head and I think I can write it in five weeks. Definitely before the school year ends.” I think she just stared at me. She may have said good luck.
Good luck is right. Here it is, almost two hundred weeks later, and I’ve finally finished Infinite in Between. It was worth the trip. They say it takes a village to raise a child. Well, this novel took a metropolis. With infinite thanks to:
Jodi Reamer, who read a very early draft (maybe ten weeks in) and said, “This is exactly the novel I wanted you to write.” The rest of the crew at Writers House, including Alec Shane and Cecilia de la Campa, who have made it this writer’s home since the day I arrived.
Tara Weikum, for staying in this fictional universe with me through the entire journey. Also at Harper, Chris Hernandez, Alexandra Alexo, Alison Donalty, Michelle Taormina, Christina Colangelo, Patty Rosati, and Gina Rizzo for everything you do/are doing to make this book completely rock.
The whole team at Booje Media—Clio de la Llave, Tiffany de la Llave, Leila Nadery, and Kristina Hermida—for understanding my love of coffee and making me feel much cooler than I actually am.
My writer-friends: Megan McCafferty (who read a draft, about sixty weeks in), Judy Blume, Wendy Mass, Gabrielle Zevin, David Levithan, James Howe, E.R. Frank, Jay Asher, and Mariah Fredericks. All of you help keep me sane (on the writing front).
My mom-friends, Jhoanna Robledo, Sarah Klock, Jen Bailey, Maxine Roël, Ismée Williams, Jenny Greenberg, Juliet Eastland, Martha Wilkie, and Raasa Leela de Montebello. All of you help keep me sane (on the parenting front).
Meredith Smart, Charlotte Exton, Sarah Ferguson, and Michael Lapinsky, for taking excellent care of my boys while I was writing.
The women from my Pilates group who jumped in when I was having title trouble and who keep me laughing (and core-strengthening) every Wednesday morning: Nitza Wilon, Valerie Vann-Oettl, Elizabeth Kaiden, Lauren Gale-Napach, Kyle Stokes, Bonnie Bertram, Martha Banta, and Ayala Fader.
My one set of parents, Ian Mackler and Debra Wolf, for offering to write a prologue for me when I was stuck. It’s amazing what parents will do.
My other set of parents, Anne Dalton (who read another draft, about thirty weeks in) and Jeff Layton, for taking me in and feeding me vegetarian food that chilly winter week so I could write from sunup to sundown.
My aunt, Alice Dalton Brown, who read yet another draft (about one hundred and ten weeks in) and gave me valuable feedback.
Dr. Denise Chou, for saving my life.
Miles and Leif Rideout, for being awesome (and understanding) kids all those weekend mornings when I ran up to the library to write and came home, blurry-eyed, seven hours later.
And, as always, my husband, Jonas Rideout, who read every draft and was here, loving me, for all of those weeks.
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PRAISE FOR TANGLED
“Subtle then intense, hilarious then heartbreaking, Tangled grabs you and doesn’t let go.”
—Jay Asher, New York Times bestselling author of Thirteen Reasons Why
“Make it not end! I *loved* reading about Jena, Dakota, Skye, and Owen. I loved getting a peek into their messy, juicy, miserable, wonderful lives, and I loved being reminded that existence itself is all about the tangling of souls.”
—Lauren Myracle, New York Times bestselling author of the Internet Girls series
“Carolyn Mackler is a remarkably astute observer of human frailties and hearts. In four interlocking tales of redemption and romance, she reminds us why we’re alive and what we might mean to one another if we’d only reach out.”
—E. Lockhart, New York Times bestselling author of We Were Liars and The Disreputable History of Frankie Landau-Banks
“Well, there goes your weekend. You’ve just picked up Carolyn Mackler’s Tangled. Cancel your plans. You’re not going to want to be anywhere else.”
—Daniel Handler, author of the Michael L. Printz Honor Book Why We Broke Up
“With her trademark humor and insight, Carolyn Mackler offers a dynamic tale of four wholly different yet totally relatable teens whose lives intersect in fascinating and touching ways.”
—Rachel Cohn, New York Times bestselling coauthor of Nick & Norah’s Infinite Playlist
“Brimming with girl appeal and emotionally generous.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A story that begs for discussion.”
—SLJ
“An often-hilarious story. Each character’s insecurities, desires, and questions about family, self-worth, and first love are timeless.”
—ALA Booklist
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo by Sarah Klock
CAROLYN MACKLER is the author of the award-winning teen novels The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things, a Michael L. Printz Honor Book; The Future of Us, coauthored with Jay Asher; Tangled; Love and Other Four-Letter Words; Vegan Virgin Valentine; and Guyaholic. She lives in New York City with her husband and two sons. Visit Carolyn online at www.carolynmackler.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at hc.com.
BOOKS BY CAROLYN MACKLER
TEEN
The Future of Us
(coauthored with Jay Asher)
Tangled
Infinite in Between
Guyaholic
Vegan Virgin Valentine
The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big Round Things
Love and Other Four-Letter Words
MIDDLE GRADE
Best Friend Next Door
CREDITS
Cover art © 2015 by Matthew Allen
Cover design by Michelle Taormina
COPYRIGHT
HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
INFINITE IN BETWEEN. Copyright © 2015 by Carolyn Mackler. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015940714
ISBN 978-0-06-173107-5 (trade bdg.)
EPub Edition © August 2015 ISBN 9780062323057
15 16 17 18 19 CG / RRDH 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
FIRST EDITION
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Carolyn Mackler, Infinite in Between
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