Fearless by Abby Brooks (best books for 8th graders .txt) 📗

then closed the door, perching on the couch to open the package.

Inside was a book with a sticky note attached.

You never got to see how it ended.

The words scrawled in a painfully familiar script. I peeled the note off and gasped at the title.

Fearless, by Alexander Prescott.

The words Advance Reader Copy scrolled across the cover, with a note that this was an unedited, prepublication copy and likely to have errors. With my stomach doing backflips, I flipped through the first few pages. Tears sprang to my eyes at the dedication page.

To EM. You fought the sun over who could give off more light. Your smile fed my own. I ‘saw you’ the moment you careened into my life, hiding your strength under a well of pain. I’m sorry for everything I said at the end. I hate myself more for it every day. Hope you’re still wearing sticky socks and scandalous PJs.

I miss you.

I wiggled my toes that were indeed encased in non-stick socks and ran a finger across the words. In the scheme of books dedicated to me, this one sounded much nicer than the first, but made no sense in the context of what happened between Alex and me.

“He misses me?” I scoffed as I paced the living room. “Then maybe he shouldn’t have been such a jerky jerkface.”

The book dropped to the coffee table and I couldn’t bring myself to touch it again.

A month later, I finished my book, and put the house on the market. Much to everyone’s surprise, it sold within a week.

And that was that. I no longer owned a home in Wildrose Landing. I didn’t go to the closing, so my realtor handed the keys to the new owner and a healthy deposit hit my account. It was time to go house hunting. Or apartment hunting. Or just bask in the fact that I’d taken the plunge and did what needed doing. I hadn’t run away or procrastinated. I’d done the hard thing and felt better for it.

Izzy cried when I told her. “I guess I kept holding out hope you’d be back someday.”

“You know you can always come visit me. Whenever I figure out where I want to live, that is.”

“Between the sale of the house and YOUR FREAKING BOOK DEAL, you can afford to be choosy.”

My heart fluttered at the thought. When I got up the courage to submit to agents, I had several falling over their feet to sign me, which was a shocker and totally unheard of for a newbie. A bidding war erupted, and the book sold for more money than I had imagined. It had to be Karma, swooping back around to do me a solid. After being taken advantage of by two different writers, the writing world was trudging around to lift me up.

Izzy launched another round of congratulations my way and I almost asked her about Alex.

Almost.

The words were right there. Right on the tip of my tongue. How’s he doing?

But it felt like a disservice to myself to ask. So I didn’t.

I did, however, pick up his book after I finished the call. I turned it over in my hands, studying the cover. I ran my finger over his name. “Freaking Fearless,” I murmured. “Of course the title’s Fearless.”

Somehow, I found myself reading the thing. I skimmed the first couple chapters. After all, I was fairly well acquainted with them. But then…

…then…

Some changes caught my eye and I started reading with more attention. Before I knew it, the apartment was dark, my eyes were blurry, my heart was thundering, and my entire world had been turned upside down.

Yes, I was in those pages. Yes, I was meek and mild in the beginning.

But the end…

Oh my goodness…the end.

Alex turned that character into a phoenix rising from the ashes of the tragedy. She was smart and quick and through so many passages I felt like he was speaking directly to me through the dialogue.

This is how I see you, Evie. This. You’re a phoenix, strong and beautiful and I love you.

On top of all that, scene forty-eight was nowhere to be seen. No mention of Stephen Drews stealing work from the woman who loved him. Alex had taken it out. Instead of humiliating me, he’d…elevated me.

“I have to see him.”

Amelia paused on her way into the living room. “See who?”

I stood and brandished the book. “I have to see Alex.”

She frowned. “We just got you over him…”

“I’ll never get over him. Especially not after this.” I shoved the book into her hands like simply holding it would explain what was inside. “I don’t know why, but after reading that, I think he loved me, and if that’s true, then I have to see him. I have to talk to him.”

Amelia flipped through the first couple pages. “Oh my goodness, he capitalized your initials in the dedication.” The goofy grin tugging at her lips said it all.

I pulled out my phone and called Izzy. “Two calls in one day?” she said when she answered. “I feel like a superstar.”

I hopped over small talk in favor of the point. “I didn’t ask about Alex the last time because…well, because. But I just read his new book. How is he?”

“He’s…well, he’s not great, Evie. I thought I understood him, but I just don’t. He’s been wallowing like his heart is broken since you left, even though as the asshole in the situation, he has no right. He turned into a full-on hermit after the ‘for sale’ sign hit your yard and I haven’t seen him since it sold. He’s leaving for a book tour tomorrow, and I’m really hoping it’ll do him some good. Not that you should worry about him. Not at all. Not after what he did to you—”

“I don’t know, Izzy.” A grin blossomed as I spoke. “I think, after reading the book, I think he chased me away on purpose, like George from Harry and the Henderson’s. I don’t know. This sounds crazy.