What do you get when you combine Tommy Orange, Angie Thomas, and Tomi Adeyemi?
Marie Tribe of Chippewa Indians and sold the project in a whopping 12-way auction.
The only bright spot is meeting Jamie, the charming new recruit on her brother Levis hockey team.
Henry Holt Books for Young Readers
But the deceptionsand deathskeep piling up and soon the threat strikes too close to home.
Prologue
I am a frozen statue of a girl on my knees in the woods.
Only my eyes move, darting from the gun to their startled expression.
The snub-nose revolver shakes with tiny tremors from the jittery hand aiming at my face.
Im gonna die.
My nose twitches at a greasy sweetness.
Vanilla and mineral oil.
Someone used it to clean the gun.
More scents: pine, damp moss, skunky sweat, and cat pee.
The jittery hand makes a hacking motion with the gun, as if wielding a machete instead.
Each diagonal slice towards the ground gives me hope.
Better a random target than me.
But then terror grips my heart again.
Back at my face.
She wont survive my death.
One bullet will kill us both.
A brave hand reaches for the gun.
THA-THUM-THA-
I am thinking of my mother when the blast changes everything.
In Ojibwe teachings, all journeys begin in the eastern direction.
Prayers begin with offering semaa and sharing my Spirit name, Clan, and where I am from.
I always add an extra name to verify Creator knows who I am.
A name that connects me to my fatherbecause I began as a secret and then, a scandal.
Ive put it off for a week.
The sky lightens as I stretch in the driveway.
My brother complains about my lengthy warm-up routine whenever he runs with me.
Not just the superficial muscles but the deep ones, too.
I want an edge over the other college freshmen in my Human Anatomy class this fall.
By the time I finish my warm-up and anatomy review, the sun peeks through the trees.
One ray of light shines on my semaa offering.
My first mile is always hardest.
My legs and arms will operate on autopilot.
My route takes me through campus.
The prettiest view in Sault Sainte Marie, Michigan is on the other side.
My grandmother MaryI call her GrandMaryinsisted I wear a dress to the dedication ceremony last summer.
I cut through the parking lot behind the student union toward the north end of campus.
The rising sun hides behind a low, dark cloud at the horizon beyond the island.
I halt in place, awestruck.
A cool breeze ruffles my t-shirt, giving me goose bumps in mid-August.
It sounds like a prayer.
Todays run felt backwards, peaking in the first mile and becoming progressively more difficult.
Id tried chasing the Zone, but it was a mirage just beyond my reach.
Mornin, Daunis, Mrs. Bonasera, the head nurse says from behind the front desk.
Marys having a good day.
Your moms already here.
Still catching my breath, I give my usual good morning wave.
The hallway seems to lengthen with each step.
I steel myself for possible responses to my announcement.
Maybe I should wait until tomorrow to announce my decision.
I pause to twist my upper body until I hear a satisfying crack.
Mrs. B. didnt need to say anything; the heavy scent of roses in the hallway announces Moms presence.
When I enter the private room, shes gently massaging rose-scented lotion on my grandmothers thin arms.
A fresh bouquet of yellow roses adds to the floral saturation level.
GrandMarys been at EverCare for six weeks now and, the month before that, in the hospital.
She had a stroke at my high school graduation party.
But you try anyway.
My grandmothers eyes connect with mine.
Her left brow raises in recognition.
Her right side is unable to convey anything.
Bon matin, GrandMary.
I kiss both cheeks before stepping back for her inspection.
In the Before, her scrutiny of my fashion choices bugged the crap out of me.
Her one-sided scowl at my oversized t-shirt feels like a perfect slap shot to the top shelf.
I playfully lift my hem to reveal yellow Spandex shorts.
Halfway through her barely perceptible eye roll, GrandMarys gaze turns vacant.
Its like a light bulb behind her eyes that someone switches on and off arbitrarily.
Give her a moment, Mom says, continuing to smooth lotion onto GrandMarys arms.
I nod and take in GrandMarys room.
The large picture window with a view of a nearby playground.
The dry erase board with the heading,Hello!
My name is Mary Fontaine,and a line for someone to fill in afterMy Nurse.
The line afterMy Goalsis blank.
The vase of roses surrounded by framed photographs.
GrandMary and Grandpa Lorenzo on their wedding day.
Mom and Uncle David in matching white First Communion outfits.
My senior picture fills a silver frame engraved withClass of 2004. Who will make my mother laugh in the New Normal now that Uncle David is gone?
My mother looks up and gives me a tired smile.
GrandMary believes in greeting the day with a perfect red smile.
Gliding the matte ruby over her thin lips, I remember my earlier plea for courage.
To know Zoongidewin is to face your fears with a strong heart.
My hand twitches; the golden tube of lipstick a jiggling needle on a seismograph.
Mom finishes with the lotion and kisses GrandMarys forehead.
I hope GrandMary can feel that good medicine even when the light bulb is off.
Mom didnt mind my record-keeping until she noticed the separate tally marks forLight bulb OnandLight bulb Off.
GrandMary blinks and her eyes brighten.Light bulb On.
GrandMary, I say quickly.
Im deferring my admission to U of M and registering for classes at Lake State.
Just for freshman year.
I hold my breath, anticipating her disappointment in my deviation fromThe Plan: Daunis Lorenza Fontaine, M.D.
At first, Id gone along with it hoping to make her proud.
I pretended so well and for so long, that her plan became my plan.
I loved that plan.
But that was Before.
GrandMary fixes me with a gaze as tender as my mothers kisses.
Something passes between my grandmother and me.
She understands why I had to alter our plan.
My nose tingles with pre-cry pinpricks from relief, sadness, or both.
Maybe theres a word in Anishinaabemowin for when you find solid footing in the rubble after a tragedy.
Mom rushes around the bed, pulling me into an embrace that whooshes the air from my lungs.
Her joyful sobs vibrate through me.
I made my mother happy.
I knew I would, but I didnt expect to feel such relief myself.
I agreed, thinking there was no way anything would come to pass.
Turns out, there was a way.
A bird thuds against the window.
My mother startles, releasing me from her grip.
Gramma Pearlmy Anishinaabe Nokomis on my Firekeeper sideconsidered a bird flying into a window as a bad sign.
But GrandMary would say it was random and unfortunate.
Nothing more than an unintended consequence of a clean window.Indian superstitions are not facts, Daunis.
My Zhaaganaash and Anishinaabe grandmothers could not have been more different.
Their push and pull on me was a tug-of-war my entire life.
When I was seven, I spent a weekend at Gramma Pearls tarpaper house on Sugar Island.
Something split inside me when I saw my mothers embarrassment.
Mom returns to GrandMary, moving the cashmere blanket aside to massage lotion on a spindly leg.
Shes exhausting herself looking after my grandmother.
Mom is convinced she will recover.
My mother has never been good at accepting unpleasant truths.
A week ago, I woke up during one of Moms cleaning frenzies.
Ive lost so much, David.
When Daunis leaves, jdisparaitre.
She had used the French word for disappear.
To fade or pass away.
Eighteen years ago, my arrival changed my mothers world.
Ruined the life her parents had preordained for her.
I am all she has left in this world.
Gramma Pearl always told me,Bad things happen in threes.
Uncle David died in April.
GrandMary had a stroke in June.
If I stay home, I can stop the third bad thing from happening.
Even if it means waiting a little longer to follow the Plan.
I kiss Mom and then GrandMary goodbye.
As soon as I leave the facility, I break into a run.
Gasping, I collapsing beneath my prayer tree.
Waiting for my breath to return.
Waiting for the normal part of the New Normal to begin.
