Crossing the Line. Katie McGarry
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Название: Crossing the Line
Автор: Katie McGarry
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Детская проза
isbn: 9781472011800
isbn:
Crossing the Line
Katie McGarry
Katie McGarry captivated readers with her “riveting, emotional”* Young Adult debut, Pushing the Limits. In this gripping novella, she tells the story of Lila and Lincoln, who discover that sometimes it’s worth crossing the line for love....
Lila McCormick first met Lincoln Turner when tragedy struck both their lives. But she never expected their surprise encounter would lead to two years of exchanging letters—or that she’d fall for the boy she’s only seen once. Their relationship is a secret, but Lila feels closer to Lincoln than anyone else. Until she finds out that he lied to her about the one thing she depended on him for the most.
Hurting Lila is the last thing Lincoln wanted. For two years, her letters have been the only things getting him through the day. Admitting his feelings would cross a line he’s never dared breach before. But Lincoln will do whatever it takes to fix his mistakes, earn Lila’s forgiveness—and finally win a chance to be with the girl he loves.
Look for more contemporary YA by Katie McGarry with Pushing the Limits and Dare You To from Mira Ink.
*Simone Elkeles, New York Times bestselling author of the Perfect Chemistry series
“Brimming with dark memories, veiled secrets, and steamy moments.” —Publishers Weekly on Pushing the Limits
Contents
Dear Lincoln,
I saw this card today and thought of you. I know that I wasn’t who you came to meet, but I’m glad we had a chance to talk. Even though I was just his little sister’s best friend, Aires still felt like a brother to me.
Between you and me, I keep smiling when I think of the look on your face when we decided to sneak out of the wake without being caught. That was a strange, messed-up night, and I’m grateful you were there to help me through it.
I know how I miss Aires so I can only imagine how you miss Josh. Just remember that I’m thinking of you.
Can I write you again? Will you write back? I hope you do. I sort of feel like we were meant to meet.
~ Lila
Dear Lila,
Thank you for the card. I’m going to admit, I’m not much of a kitten guy, but I appreciate the thought. Mostly, I appreciate your note.
Yeah, I agree, the night of Aires’s funeral was messed up, but messed up in a good way. Mom and Dad thought if we met Aires’s family that it would help us with losing Josh. I thought Mom and Dad had it all jacked up, and in a way, they did. It wasn’t meeting Aires’s family that helped, it was talking to you—so thanks.
And no, I don’t mind if you want to write me again. Even if you do it in one of those kitten-hanging-from-a-tree cards.
~ Lincoln
Lincoln
Is it weird that I feel close to you even though you’re hundreds of miles away and we’ve only met once? I hope not. I’m glad that you’re in my life.
~ Lila
On the computer screen, the question “Why?” glares at me like the correct accusation it is. This dialogue between Lila and me, it breaks every unsaid rule about our relationship. We never plug in like this. Never. Not that part of me hasn’t wanted a faster connection to her. A link beyond the letters, but there was something about the written word that made our relationship safe.
And now we’re crossing lines. The one relationship I need, the one relationship I depend on...I’ve jacked it up. Fitting since I have a natural inclination toward destroying anything good. It’s genetic, my sister tells me. Anyone sharing our bloodline is inherently doomed.
“You should have talked to me before buying it,” my father shouts at my mother in the kitchen. “I made a budget.”
My home is a volcano, a constant gurgle of hot lava on the verge of explosion. I try to ignore my parents, but it’s difficult. We have one computer in the house, and it sits wide open in the family room. From the corner of my eye, I have a clear shot of how Dad’s hands shake with anger and how Mom’s frustration paints her cheeks a frightening scarlet.
“Why should I have to ask your permission for anything?” A chair slams into the wooden kitchen table and Mom’s high heels stomp against the tile floor. “It’s my money too. And as for the budget—you never asked me what I wanted.”
I asked you why. Lila’s words appear on our direct message conversation.
I rub at the lines on my forehead, and a tense uneasiness paralyzes my fingers over the keyboard. I don’t know why I did it. That’s a lie, I do know, but I don’t know how to tell her. I don’t know how to salvage this.
I’m sorry, I reply.
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