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For Davey.

Sorry about the laundry.

Acknowledgments

There are many people without whom this book and the series on a whole wouldn’t have been possible. The list is long and the reasons for inclusion are varied, so, let’s gets to it...

*My husband,
Davey
, and our three minions,
Alison, Faith-dizzle,
and
Erin
– You four have shown me what unconditional love is, seeing as how despite many a night of “on your own dinners,” you guys still haven’t voted me off the island. You all are my joy and my life would be empty without you.

*Mommy
- Because you know, you gave birth to me and have put up with my shit for the last [REDACTED] some odd years. Not only that, but your genuine love of these stories and your passion for reading them makes me
want
to keep going. And don’t worry; Book 4 is on its way. I promise.

*Bapa
-You’re my hero.

*My beta-readers:
Alison, Gloria, Miranda, Karen,
and
Becky
- With comments like “Omgosh! So good!” and “This is the best thing I’ve ever read,” I feel I can blame some of you for my inflated ego. Just kidding, I’m honestly just tickled that you guys were gracious enough to share your opinions, and your feedback has been invaluable—even if it wasn’t always glowing.

*My in-laws:
Suzanne, Jerry, Mike, Kellie,
and
Karen
- You guys go above and beyond, far surpassing what family does. That’s all I’m sayin’.

*My BFFs and BFFLEs both past and present and in order of when I met them:
Derek, Billy, Tanya, Rachel, Renee, Becky, Melanie, Mike, Monica C., Karyn, Amy, Jeff, Tisha, Shawn, Stacy, Treena, Karen, Kristina, Cris, Monica S., Crystal, Tonya,
and
Stefani
– Some of you are family, some of you are family in heart, and still some of you I haven’t seen or spoken to in what feels like a millennia, but regardless, you have
all
helped to shape me into who I am today. Whether the result of your influence is a good thing or not has yet to be determined. :-P

*My Facebook Poll Participants in no particular order:
Dave, Alison, Faith, Stacy, Stefani, Becky, Karen, Noah, Brooklyn, Tyler, Miranda, Gloria, Brittany, Diana U., Jill, Kellie, Seth, Jon, Natalie M., Diana B., Kristina, Violette, Natalie L., Martin,
and
Sara –
By taking time out of your day to vote on those 18 chapter titles, you all played what might seem like a small role, but it was a vital roll in the production of this book. I hope that by participating in a debut novel in that way, that you all had fun—I know I certainly did, and I still think some of you are going to be surprised…

*And last but nowhere even close to the realm of least, someone who rightfully belongs in a few of the lists above, however, she’s so incredible, she deserves a special shout-out.
K-E-L-L-Y
– I’m rarely at a loss for what to say, but I honestly don’t have the words. Seriously, no one will ever truly understand what a special and integral part you’ve played in the lives of these characters. We’re all better for knowing you...including me. (PS. Here’s my official $20 I.O.U. for the sweet find on the cheerleader ornaments.)

So to sum it all up, thanks guys, you’re the best.

~Jenn

Prologue

God, I love the beach.

But, I’ve never given much thought to the perfection of God’s creations before now. I gotta tell ya though, He does some damned fine work. I’ve also never really considered the whole “God has a plan” thing.

Until now…

“Did you hear me?”

“Huh?” I did hear a voice…I’m just not sure who it belonged to. Even though He’s never talked to me before, not that I’m aware of anyway, I was kinda thinking God might’ve been trying to tell me something.

“Jesus, dude, pay attention. I asked if you’re ready...”

“Oh, yeah. Gimme a minute though.” I am ready. I’ve been waiting for something like this for a long time.

Unfortunately, I think God was telling me now’s not the right time and I have to keep waiting. Which sucks because I’m not all that patient. That’s why, if I could get away with it, I’d stay here forever just staring at the aforementioned damned fine work of His creation.

“What for?”

I jerked my chin in the direction of the ocean.

“Oh, that.”

Yeah,
that
. I think I’m hooked. I feel like a drug addict. The problem is, I don’t know anything about my pusher or when or even
if
I’ll get another fix.

“You know if you take a picture it’ll last longer.”

That’s a horrible joke.

On second thought though…it’s not a bad idea.

Aim and click.

Beautiful. Now I have Def Leppard’s song “Photograph” playing in my head. Not only am I an addict, I’m turning into a stalker. That’s just great. And really, it is, because I
am
ready. It just seriously freaks me out to admit it.

I really hope God knows what He’s doing…

I “Get” To Be The New Girl

Cancer sucks.

And you know what? It can kiss my almost sixteen-year-old ass.

Now don’t get me wrong, I don’t swear. It’s just not who I am or how I’ve been raised. I haven’t been sheltered or anything like that, I’m just really awesome at self-censoring. See, I’m the good girl. You know, prays before she eats, gets good grades, keeps her room clean, does what she’s told, is always polite…that kind of stuff. Yeah, I know. That’s me, Cameron Ramsey, AKA: Miss “Goody Two Shoes.” I swear Adam Ant wrote that song back in the ‘80s specifically about me even though I wasn’t a twinkle in my dad’s eyes yet. Recently though, I’ve come to understand that, now and then, there are some situations in life that really do deserve a choice expletive.

Like right now. Standing in my bathroom getting ready for my first day of high school, you could definitely say I’m pretty fucking pissed off.

Technically it’s not my first day of high school, but it
is
my first day at a public high school. My sister and I were homeschooled until about three weeks ago when my mom’s cancer made it too much for her to keep up with…even after the double mastectomy. Her oncologist said they got it all, but the meds she has to take make her really ill and totally exhausted; because you know, losing her breasts—one of the major symbols of womanhood—and facing her mortality at the age of thirty-six wasn’t enough.

If all that wasn’t just dandy on its own, the icing on the suck-cake was moving last spring. My mom’s name is Mandy and she got sick about five months ago but at the time, she was able to keep up with the important things in her life, those things being my sister, Jillian, my dad, Kevin, and myself. However, about a week or so after my mom got the diagnosis, my dad called a family meeting to explain we would be moving back to San Diego. We have a ton of family here and everyone felt it would be easier for them to support us if we came back. Doing so was made possible by the company my dad works for. The head honchos there truly treat their employees like family and when the owner and managers heard what was going on, they totally got on the “Support the Ramsey Family Bandwagon” by giving him a transfer,
and
a cost of living raise.

At first Jillian and I were thrilled to be moving back where we were born. Every time my family visited our hometown, we would whine and complain about having to go back to Arizona; we being my sister and I mostly, but sometimes my parents would join in the grumbling. So that being the case, you’d think we’d be happy with finally having that long-time prayer answered, right? But you have to understand, we’re typical girls. Girls are allowed to be fickle. Especially me, since I’m the angst-ridden teenager.

It didn’t really sink in until our last day with our homeschool group. I didn’t know it was going to be so hard. None of us did. Everything was happening so fast and we were all so excited and busy with packing and stuff, that when it came time to actually say goodbye to our friends and the great people we’d spent the last nine or so years with, Jill and I were totally unprepared for how it would affect us. I guess I did okay. I held my tears back until I was in bed that night and quietly cried myself to sleep. I hadn’t done that since I was like six or something. Jillian on the other hand…well, she was a train wreck. She’s a twelve-year-old genius and normally has no emotions to speak of, but I haven’t seen her bawl like that since the cat she paid for with her own money—the one she actually threw a first birthday party for—got hit by a car when she was four. When it was time to leave the park, my mom had to pry Jill loose from her best friends and carry her to the car. Jillian sobbed the whole way home. She didn’t come out of her room for dinner that night and even though her door was shut and the radio was on, we could hear her crying her eyes out. We left the next morning.

The drive from our old house to the new one only took about six hours and by the time we crossed the California State Line, everyone had mostly gotten over the misery of leaving. This was thanks in large part to the seldom sight of lush green grass and being able to roll the windows down in the car. Two things that definitely won’t be missed about Arizona are how close the weather resembles the Seventh Ring of Hell and how everything is some shade of beige. Actually, there isn’t all that much we’ll really miss except for our friends, and thinking about how short a drive it is, it’s easy to tell yourself you’ll get to visit them all the time.

It was the beginning of May when my dad pulled the U-Haul truck into the driveway of our new house, which so happened to be in the same neighborhood my family lived in before we relocated to the Northwest region of Hades. Honestly though, the move couldn’t have been timed better. In Arizona it’s usually so hot by May, everyone already has their A/C units cranked up and running 24/7 in preparation for summer hibernation like confused bears. Not in San Diego though. The weather here is just about as perfect as it can get. I can’t even begin to explain how awesome it is to have the windows in the house open and being able to breathe the fresh air everyday—like it’s some kind of big treat or something. I guess you could say it is for someone who previously risked choking on sweltering heat just walking to the mailbox.

Before we even got settled, my mom sent in the required paperwork so she could continue to legally homeschool us, and she didn’t skip a beat in resuming our educational regime. Now, let me just explain something; my mom isn’t a schedule kind of gal, so when I say regime or schedule, I just mean we didn’t get a moving break or anything like a summer vacation. We did have the chance to do school at the beach when my mom felt up to it though. My parents are big on learning from life and they call those opportunities “teachable moments.” We brought books to the beach and talked about tides, the coastal eco-system, and the chemistry of salt water. The highlight for me was getting to drool over all the hot surfer guys. I’d like to go on record right now by saying that in addition to beautiful weather; San Diego also has a
plethora
of saliva producing boys.

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