The Undoing of Thistle Tate by Katelyn Detweiler

Author:Katelyn Detweiler
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Holiday House
Published: 2019-07-22T16:00:00+00:00

* * *

I knock on my dad’s door after Liam leaves.

“Hey,” I say quietly, anxiously, as I push open the door. No response. He’s sitting up in his wheelchair, his back turned to me. Sleeping, I assume. I tiptoe over to check, afraid to jolt him awake, but when I step in front of him I see that his eyes are wide open, clearer and more alert than they’ve been for a while.

“How are you feeling?” I sit on the edge of his bed and lean in close, but not too close.

“Terrible.” He sighs. “Physically terrible to start. The occupational therapist came by today and I felt useless. But emotionally, I’m—I’m not so great either. I keep thinking about how much I’m failing you, and I can’t stand it.”

“That’s not true,” I say, even if it is. I look at him, really look at him, for the first time in days. He’s lost some weight—which would be a good thing ordinarily, if it was attributed to green smoothies or laps around the block, fewer parakeet-shaped cookies. But it’s too much, too fast, and his face looks pale and thin and saggy.

“It seems like you’ve been pretty busy, though? You haven’t been around much lately.”

“Yeah, some new friends. A fan I met at my reading at the bookstore, actually.”

“Oh,” he says, his mouth twisting downward. “Marigold. Did you see the e-mail we got from Elliot this afternoon?”

I shake my head. I hadn’t checked the e-mail on my laptop since before I’d met up with Oliver.

“Well, he loves the chapters he’s read, but he said he really must have the rest of the pages next Friday. He suggested he come to Philly in the next few days to help you hash through anything that’s left to do and start talking about edits. Susan was invited to join in, too.”

“What?” The room spins in front of me. “No. No way. They can’t come here.”

“I know.” He sighs again. “I called Elliot as soon as I read the e-mail. I said that you would be much better left to your own devices—can’t mess with genius—but that it’s imperative you’re given more time. I told him I’d been distracting you. It was my fault.”

“And…?” I ask.

“He said he has to have the chapters next week. Martin Davis is breathing fire down his neck. He’s insisting on the visit.”

My breath hitches. “You were so sure you could get more time.”

“I know, Thistle. I tried with Susan then, too, and I got the same story. I don’t—I don’t know what to do. I’m beating myself up about it, trust me.”

“Well, luckily I’m working on a potential solution.” My heart is pounding. It’s my dad, I shouldn’t be nervous, but—this is it, my chance.

“Oh?” He raises both eyebrows.

“I’ve been outlining the ending for you. It’s not exactly how you envisioned it, but I think it’ll work. I think it’s how it should be. Maybe if I share that with Elliot first, we can—”

“Sweetie,” Dad says, interrupting me, “I appreciate that you’re trying to help.

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