Down World by Rebecca Phelps (beach read TXT) 📗

mastering parallel parking, but he would often call me out for stopping too suddenly at the makeshift stop signs he had set up.

“I know you’re anxious to get your license,” he told me one day. “But I think you should practice for a while longer.”

“No problem, Dad. I’m not in any hurry.”

“Hey, let’s stop by the drugstore on the way home. I want to get your stepmother an anniversary card.”

“Okay,” I said, careful to put on the turn signal and look both ways before leaving the lot.

The town was somehow quieter since I’d gotten back, or maybe it just seemed that way to me. There had never been curfews in this reality, but still the streets felt empty at night. The only exceptions were game nights at the school, when people would hang out in the parking lot until about ten—parents and children—eating takeout and talking about what kind of season the teams were having.

I would sit with Christy, who was still my best friend. The portals under the school had been bricked up since the previous year, and nobody went down there anymore. It started to seem like a dream I had once had, and sometimes I wondered if I was the only one who had dreamed it.

But then I’d see a little something, hidden on the bottom of a school desk or etched on the door of a bathroom stall: “Where’d you go, DW?” “I’ve been Down. Have U?”

We pulled up to the drugstore so my father could pick out a card for my stepmother, Laura. In this reality, they had been married for five years. I was getting to know her slowly, and despite myself, I found that I actually liked her.

“We should get one for your brother too,” my father said. “He got straight As his first semester at U of Oregon.”

“I heard. You pick it out, okay?”

I headed for the magazine rack and I was flipping through something about “miracle skin” when I heard the skateboard scrape across the floor nearby.

“Not in here, kid!” came the manager’s angry shout.

“Sorry,” was all the kid said in return.

I peeked over the magazines to see the top of a head, and I knew it was him. Kieren didn’t know me, of course. I had wanted to tell him a million times about us. We were friends, I wanted to say. We were more than friends. We were almost in love once.

He caught my eye, and I realized I was staring. I looked away for a moment, embarrassed. He was done with high school now, and I had seen him working at his dad’s cell phone store.

Where would he go next? To college, maybe? Or to join the military like his father had before him? His parents had never divorced in this reality, the stress of Robbie’s death having never befallen their house. I had seen the whole family together at the high school football games.

When I looked up from the magazines again, Kieren was gone.

That night I was on my laptop doing some homework when I heard the beep of a new email. I scrolled over to see it, and I couldn’t help but smile when I saw the name.

It was from Brady. We’d swapped email addresses after he arrived in Colorado, but I hadn’t heard from him in a while.

Hey, kiddo.

Just wanted to see how junior year was treating you. You find your math lab yet? Just kidding.

Piper and I are loving Colorado. She’s taking some classes. I haven’t found a job yet, but I’m sure I will. I’ve got some leads. The mountains are beautiful. You can see them from our balcony.

If you’re ever around this way, you should stop by and see us. I think you’d really like Piper. Here’s a pic of us up at a place called Pike’s Peak. It’s amazing up there. You feel like you can fly.

A picture of Piper and Brady followed, as promised, and they both looked beautiful. Fresh faced and rosy cheeked. The atmosphere up there really agreed with them.

And here’s a postcard I found at the gift shop. I don’t know why, but it made me think of you, so I wanted to show you the picture. I hope you’re doing good in school. Take care of yourself.

XO, Brady.

The picture he’d scanned was one of those postcards I’m sure they sell at every ski resort in the world. It showed a woman standing on a mountain late in the day, her back to the camera, the sun setting before her. She had her arms raised up high above her, the last pink streams of sunlight glowing through her fingers, like she was on fire.

And just as Brady promised, she looked like she could fly off the mountain. She looked strong. She looked like a warrior.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

This book would not exist without the extraordinary community of writers and readers at Wattpad. You discovered my book, you voted for it, you left me thousands of supportive and encouraging messages, and you made me believe in myself and my story. I am profoundly grateful.

To the nicest group of Canadians a girl could ever hope to meet, the entire team at Wattpad HQ. You plucked my book out of obscurity and selected it as a 2019 Young Adult Watty winner. My wildest dreams have been coming true ever since. I am especially indebted to Deanna McFadden for selecting Down World for publication, and to my brilliant editor, Jen Hale, and copy editor, Sarah Howden. You asked all the right questions and didn’t quit until I found the right answers. The book is infinitely better as a result.

I wrote Down World in thirty-minute spurts at 6 a.m., while my husband watched over our two kids. Every morning for a year, I’d trudge down the street to the coffee shop, laptop firmly wedged beneath one arm, not sure if anyone would ever read the words I was typing. Thank you to the Aroma Café for making the best muffins—and