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I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

I'll Give You the Sun by Jandy Nelson

Author:Jandy Nelson
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2014-08-18T21:00:00+00:00


THE INVISIBLE MUSEUM

Noah

Ages 131/2–14

The day after Brian leaves for boarding school, I sneak into Jude’s room while she’s in the shower and see a chat on the computer.

Spaceboy: Thinking about you

Rapunzel: Me too

Spaceboy: Come here right this minute

Rapunzel: Haven’t perfected my teleporting

Spaceboy: I’ll get on it

I blow up the entire country. No one freaking notices.

They’re in love. Like black vultures. And termites. Yes, turtle doves and swans aren’t the only animals that mate for life. Ugly, toilet-licking termites and death-eating vultures do too.

How could she do this? How could he?

It’s like having explosives on board 24/7, the way I feel. I can’t believe when I touch things they don’t blow to bits. I can’t believe I was so way off.

I thought, I don’t know, I thought wrong.

So wrong.

I do what I can. I turn each of Jude’s doodles I find around the house into a murder scene. I use the most hideous deaths from her stupid How Would You Rather Die? game. A girl being shoved out a window, knifed, drowned, buried alive, strangled by her own hands. I spare no detail.

I also put slugs in her socks.

Dip her toothbrush in the toilet bowl. Every morning.

Pour white vinegar into the glass of water by her bed.

But the worst part is that for the few minutes every hour when I’m not psychopathic, I know that to be with Brian: I would give all ten fingers. I would give anything.

(SELF-PORTRAIT: Boy Rowing Madly Back Through Time)

A week passes. Two. The house gets so big it takes hours for me to walk from my bedroom to the kitchen and back, so big that even with binoculars, I can’t make out Jude across a table or room. I don’t think our paths will ever cross again. When she tries to talk to me over the miles and miles of betrayal between us, I put in ear buds like I’m listening to music, when really, the other end is attached to my hand in my pocket.

I never want to speak to her again and make this very clear. Her voice is static. She is static.

I keep thinking Mom will realize that we’re at war and act like the United Nations as she’s done in the past, but she doesn’t.

(PORTRAIT: Disappearing Mother)

Then one morning, I hear voices in the hallway: Dad talking to a girl who isn’t Jude, who I quickly realize is Heather. I’ve barely given a speck of brain space to her, even after what happened between us in the closet. That horrible lie of a kiss. I’m sorry, Heather, I say in my head as I pad silently over to the window, sorry, so sorry, as I lift it as quietly as possible. I climb out, falling to safety below the sill as I hear the knock on the door and Dad saying my name. It’s all I can think to do.

Halfway down the hill, a car peels by me and I want to stick out my thumb. Because I should hitchhike to Mexico or Rio like a real artist.



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