and the prom queen,
Rosie Barajas, took the stage and were crowned, still to the Miss
America song.
“You know,” Dave said. “I’m glad it happened.” He looked at
her, gauging her reaction, making sure what he was saying wasn’t
insensitive. She seemed at ease, though, calm.
“What part?”
“All of it,” he said. “The Nevers, the beach, even those few hours
where I had the worst-colored hair on the planet.” Everywhere around
him there were ecstatic people, kids drunk on covert alcohol and
inappropriate dancing, drunk on the feeling of summer within reach,
drunk on the thought that they were done. “You were the first girl I
loved, as a friend or otherwise. You’re my best friend, Julia.”
“You’re my best friend, too, David Sporkful McGee.”
“Sporkful McGee?”
“Shut up. Wasn’t my best.” Looking around the football field,
DAVE & JULIA 307
her blue eyes were thoughtful, intense. He wondered what she was
thinking, how hurt she still was. The royal couple left the stage and
another band came up, fiddling with the connections, setting spare
guitars up on racks, sending ripples of feedback into the night. “You
know, I was thinking of a new list,” Julia said. “The Always. A list of
clichés to do throughout college. Frat parties, editorials in the school newspaper about the evils of the administration, paying some creepy
dude fifty bucks for a fake ID. There’s a whole new world to be
explored.”
Dave laughed and bumped her with his shoulder. “You have a pen
and paper?”
308 NEVER ALWAYS SOMETIMES
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
FIRST OF ALL, a huge thanks to the fantastic team at Harlequin
Teen, who’ve made my publishing experience such a good one that
my previous dreams about being published feel tame in comparison.
From the editorial team to the sales team and everyone in between, the
support has been humbling to say the least.
Tashya and TS, of course, for their editorial guidance. Lisa Wray,
for all she does for me on my bookish travels. Amy Jones and Michelle
Renaud, for hanging out with me all over the place. Dave Carley,
Heather Foy, Melissa Anthony, Brent Lewis. Sigh, there are so many
to name. I never quite understood how many people are involved in
putting together a book. Now I’ve seen it firsthand, and I’ve met so
many of them, and it’s still pretty hard to wrap my head around it.
Thank you for all you do.
Laura, who begged me for information about this book for a long
time before I gave anything away, and yet loved me just the same. Also,
for taking me on adventures, and for helping me cowrite the greatest
pop song the world will ever hear.
My family, who begged me for information about this book for a
long time before I gave anything away, and loved me a little less for
it. Just kidding, Mom. Everyone who’s met my family knows they’re
all great, and supportive, and deserving of their own paragraph in the
acknowledgments sections of my books.
Annie Stone, for not leaving me completely orphaned. Emilia
Rhodes, who, though she orphaned me, had a significant role in the
creation of this book. Sara Shandler for her wisdom, particularly
in improving the second half drastically. Josh Bank, too, since the
pitching room would not be the same without him. Partially because
it was his office.
To the incredibly supportive community of YA authors whom I’ve
had the great pleasure of meeting since first getting published, either
in person or online. Of course, the supportive community of readers,
librarians, bloggers, booksellers, random one-time e-mailers, whom
I’ve either met or e-met. I like meeting people, is what I’m saying,
especially bookish people. It’s been my favorite part of being published: all the people I’ve met since.
My teacher friends at the American School Foundation, who let me
sit in on high school classes in order to draw inspiration for made-up
teens from actual teens, since, as much as we like to pretend, adults
forget exactly what it’s like to be a teenager as soon as we’re not one.
Brett Sikkink, Carlos Kassam-Clay, Perri Devon-Sand, Renee Olper,
Julien Howeveryouspellyourlastname, Mark Abling, Guy Cheney,
Amy Gallie, others I’m sure I’m forgetting. John Powell, for giving me
a coaching job and still allowing me to run off to do author things.
Harry Brake and Daniel Thomas for allowing me to crash their Open
312 NEVER, ALWAYS, SOMETIMES
Mic nights. I promise no one in this paragraph inspired Mr. Marroney.
The students of ASF, of course.
One last paragraph of friends whose names deserve to be in
print: Chris Russell, David Isern, Maggie Vazquez, Edgar Gutierrez,
Gonzalo Scaglia, Sergio Rodriguez, Paul Donnelly, Cassie Harrell,
John Kennedy (real name), Gillian Horbach, Chris Farkas, Lundon
Boyd, Ryan Troe. Joshua Zoller, who always has a hookah ready for
me. Dawn Ryan, for her role in making it all happen. Cris de Oliveria,
who will one day print my name in her acknowledgments section.
Whytnee, Dennis, Bugs, Leah, who are always there to welcome me
in NY.
Finally, a big sarcastic thanks to the jerk who made acknowledg-
ments sections a common practice. I’m very grateful, to a lot of people.
But this was stressful.
AckNOWLEDGMENTS 313