The Last Academy (19 page)

Faintly, I heard her say, “Love you, too.”

And then she was gone.

For a while after, I stood on the dock, thinking about all the things I wished I’d said to her. Who was Lia now, if she was old enough to graduate? Not a fourteen-year-old with a killer smile anymore. That girl was as much of a ghost as I was. But even so, Lia was out there, somewhere, still my best friend.

“What’s on the other side?” I asked Charon.

“I have never stepped on the other shore,” he answered.

“Yeah, but you know something about it, I bet.”

Eventually he said, “Consider an unhatched chick. That creature believes the entire world is the inside of an egg. Then things begin to change. One day, there is no more nourishment, no more room. I find it hard to imagine a more frightened creature, with nowhere to go and no ability to stay. That small bird must put its head against the edge of the world and break through its own reality in order to continue on. And yet, this happens every day. If
the universe has such an elaborate plan for a chicken, perhaps one could hope there is also a plan for you.”

In my pocket, I held the coin until it was warm in my hand. I listened to water lap against the dock posts. Behind us, the first streaks of purplish dawn appeared. Perhaps it was a warning — a sign that lightness was behind me and darkness ahead. Or maybe it was just the sunrise. I shivered from the cold, even though my body should no longer care about things like that.

What about everyone I loved? What about the good smell of my mom when she hugged me? What about the sound of my dad’s voice? What about Mark? Nora? Lia? Would I ever find them again if I went across the water?

You do
, a voice inside me whispered.
You do see everyone again.

Charon waited with me. The streaks of dawn in the sky remained, unchanging. My heart started up with the pitter-patter racing of happy fear.

See, I knew what was on
this
side. But over there, across the water? Anything could be waiting, as different from this dark place as the bright light of day compared to the inside of an egg. I took a deep breath, taking my time. You know. Considering.

F
or a long time, I was afraid to write. I worried people wouldn’t like what I had to say. That fear seems kind of silly to me now, but it felt very real when I started. The cure, of course, was to write anyway. As I did, I came to realize I was surrounded by all kinds of amazing mentors. Which was really lucky for me, since I’m a big chicken on my own. I’d like to thank the following people for helping me understand it’s OK to be scared, as long as I don’t let fear get in the way.

A heartfelt thank you to Charlie, Karen, Peg, Mary, Carol, and especially Kari, all of whom read what I wrote and sometimes didn’t like what I had to say. How wonderful to learn it wouldn’t kill me! Most of the time, it even helped. Thank you for your insight, clever suggestions, and encouragement.

A huge thank you to Cori Stern. My dad used to say, “If something seems too good to be true, it probably is.” Cori has been the exception to this rule, being both way too good to be true, and also everything she claims. She, along with the incredible Bruna Papandrea, helped make publication possible.

On the publication end, I’d like to thank my agent, Eddie Gamarra, who has been fantastic. I am also hugely appreciative of the Scholastic team. Many thanks to Yaffa Jaskoll, who created the beautiful book design; Janet Robbins, the production editor; and Becky Shapiro.

I couldn’t have asked for a better editor than Aimee Friedman. She saw how to make my manuscript about ten times better, and was incredibly kind, deft, and insightful about sharing that information with me. She put a ton of energy and thought into this project, and has remained enthusiastic about it since the very first. It has been a privilege to work with her.

Much love to my father, who believed I’d be a writer long before I did, and to my mother, whose brilliant understanding of character helped me when I had no idea what to do next. Finally, to my children and husband, who
gave me the space and encouragement to try this. Change can be frightening, especially when it occurs in a parent or spouse. But they are brave, amazing individuals, who helped me become something more than I was before. Thank you.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

As a teenager, ANNE APPLEGATE attended boarding school near Santa Barbara. She later graduated from Tufts University with a degree in psychology, and now lives in California with her husband and three children. You can visit her online at
www.anneapplegate.com
.