The Reece Malcolm List (32 page)

Good luck with everything, but I don’t think you’ll need it.

—Jeff

I blink back tears, because I don’t want to cry over this. My mother’s right. Despite everything, Dad was a good person. And I’d rather dwell on that than the sad parts I can’t change.

“I used to be way cuter,” I say so my mother will know I’m not up for another serious moment.

“Weren’t we all.” She takes the photos from me. “If you didn’t peak as a child as far as cuteness goes, there’s something wrong with you.”

She walks back to her dresser and riffles through the box in the bottom drawer again. Finally she lugs it over to the bed and pulls out a few photos, which I realize are of her as a baby. “Bad news for you how alike we looked.”

“Totally not bad news.” I hold a couple of pictures side by side. “Can I keep these?”

“Of course.”

“Can I keep the letter, too?”

She kisses my forehead. “Absolutely.”

It’s then that I notice two new photos on her nightstand. One is of Brad looking serious as he tends to the stove, and the other is of me. I’m in my
Merrily
costume—the stupid pajamas—and I must have been talking to someone because I look caught up in a moment of happiness.

I like how being happy looks on me. (Way more than I like the pajamas.)

“I, um, I have something to show you, too,” I say to her, and race to my room to retrieve my notebook before I can stop myself. My mother sits down on my bed with it. Probably I should be terrified or embarrassed or some kind of hybrid combo but I just sit down right next to her.

“I’m impressed,” she says. “I’m hard to Google.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Next time you want to know something,” she says, leaning over to my desk and grabbing a pen, “just ask. I promise I’ll tell you, whatever it is. Deal?”

“Deal.” I laugh as she starts scribbling onto the list. “What are you doing?”

“Don’t worry,” she says with a grin. “I’m making it better.”

Things I know about Reece Malcolm

A list originally by Devan Malcolm, updated by Reece Malcolm

1. She graduated from New York University ten years ago with a GPA marred only by a B in Algebra. Who expects writers to take math anyway?

2. She lives in
or near Los Angeles
(even the Internet can’t confirm)
Studio City, California, with her vaguely irritating boyfriend and hardly irritating at all excepting the amount of time it takes her to get ready to go anywhere daughter.

3.
Since her first novel (Destruction) was released nine years ago she’s always had at least one book on the New York Times bestseller list.
Her latest book will be dedicated to the same person as her first. And this time, that person will get to see it right away.

4. She likes strong coffee and bourbon, the only personal details she gave in a rare interview with The Daily Beast.
A fact that will make the next several months excruciating for her and all around her.

5. She’s my mother.
And one day will even be amazing at it.

Acknowledgments

My editor, Stacy Cantor Abrams, understood the book I was trying to write better than I thought another person could. Thank you for your hard work helping me get it to where it needed to be.

Thanks also to amazing assistant editor Alycia Tornetta for your insight and enthusiasm, publicity dream team Heather Riccio and Misa Ramirez for your tireless work, and everyone at Entangled.

Thank you to my agent, Kate Schafer Testerman, for believing in this story for a very, very long time.

A huge and hearty thank you to Meghan Deans, friend and critique partner extraordinaire. This book couldn’t have become what it is without your support.

Thank you times one billion to early
early
readers: Sharon Gorman, Chelsea Jupin, Liz Kies, and Christie Baugher. Remember when we discussed this book on LiveJournal? (No, me neither. Never.)

Thank you to Rochelle Hartson for distracting me with
America’s Next Top Model
, to Sarah Skilton for unstoppable optimism, to Courtney Summers for the best use of Twitter DMs, to Brandy Colbert for keeping me sane, to Sara Zarr for your infinite wisdom, to Stephanie Perkins for the phone pep talks, and to Nick Weber for knowing—when I was at my lowest—to ask me
What Would Leslie Knope Do?

Thank you to Hope Larson for general awesomeness, for ice cream, and especially for hosting Writing Night, which kept me on track on a weekly basis (even when I didn’t think I could be).

Thank you to cheerleaders and note-givers and support squad: Kristen Kittscher, Trish Doller, Kayla Cagan, Carrie Harris, Jasmine Guillory, Kevin Fanning, Siobhan Vivian, Lindsay Ribar, Andrea Robinson, Sara Beitia.

Despite my geekiness where it’s concerned, I needed help with some
Merrily We Roll Along
specifics, so thank you: Sylvia Stoddard for infinite knowledge and opinions; the cast and crew of The Chance Theater’s production, especially director Oanh Nguyen and killer Mary Flynn, Amie Bjorklund; and the person who taped the 2002 Kennedy Center production—you are a true hero.

Thank you to my cover team: photographer Jessie Weinberg, model Cassandra Morris, P.A. Connie Shin, and designer Emmett Kenny.

And, lastly, thank you to my parents for never discouraging me from being weird.

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