Conviction (41 page)

So now, in the airport, I keep the ball. It doesn’t feel right, exactly, but I don’t know how long it’s going to be before anything does. Later, strapped into my seat and
listening to the flight attendants before we take off, I take it from my pocket again and spin it around on my lap until Trey tells me to put it away, I’m making him nervous, so I do. My
palms are damp. And I’m scared, but not enough that I didn’t catch the break in his voice.

The cabin doors shut. The pressure inside changes, and as the plane starts down the runway I grip the armrests on either side. When I do, Trey reaches out and pats me awkwardly on the knee, and
he leaves his hand there as the engines start to roar. We start to lift off the ground and the angle makes it so the whole world is pressing against my chest.

And then we’re ascending. We climb high enough that when I look outside, the whole world I’m leaving can fit through one of the plane’s windows. Before we level out again the
plane dips, and there’s something familiar in that feeling, that suspension. I grip the ball in my pocket and try to quiet the trembling near my heart, and it feels, just for a second, before
the plane rights itself again, like the universe has whittled itself down to one long arc of possibility—like that moment right before you throw a really good pitch.

W
riting books has been my dream since I was six years old. Thank you, thank you for reading this one and for holding a piece of my heart in your
hands.

In addition, my most heartfelt thank-yous to:

The inimitable Adriann Ranta for her unwavering confidence, keen insight, and all-around amazingness, and for believing in this story from day one.

Laura Schreiber for her wisdom, vision, and enthusiasm, and for uncovering the very best version of this book. Christine Ma and Mark Amundsen for their unflagging devotion to detail. Emily
Meehan and the team at Hyperion for giving this story a home, and Maria Elias and Chris Silas Neal for giving it a face for the world.

Alvin Tsao, Brett Gilbert, Perla Ramos, Albert Hsueh, and Bryan Ni for fielding my questions about their respective areas of expertise. Brendan Kiley; the ortolan symbolism is based on his
work.

My mother, Teri Gilbert; my aunt, Maureen Gilbert; my mother-in-law, Susan Rodriguez; Missy Loeser; and Karla Torres for their generosity in enabling me with time to write, and the Loeser-Lee
family for opening their home to me while I studied.

My teachers at McAuliffe Elementary and Monta Vista High for fostering my lifelong belief in the power of stories, and Jen Ireland, for reading with me everywhere and teaching me that stories
are always best shared. Renee Euchner, Nona Caspers, the community at San Francisco State, and
The Kenyon Review
for their encouragement. Emily Chen, Stephanie Chen, Colleen Dischiave, Annie
Suarez, my aunts, and my grandmothers for their constant cheerleading. Bryant Look for the affirmation, and the creative writers at Eastside for the inspiration.

The YA world (bloggers, Binders, and Buccaneers), the 2015 debut community, and especially the Freshman Fifteen. I couldn’t have asked to share this dream with a more wonderful group.

Annie Perez, Helena Geefay, Lee Kelly, and Anna-Marie McLemore, who not only read various incarnations of this story and helped me shape it, but who formed a chorus of encouragement that drowned
out my moments of writer self-doubt. Kim Liggett, Chandler Baker, Charlotte Huang, Lori Goldstein, Jessica Taylor, Stacey Lee, and Sabaa Tahir for their camaraderie; Marci Lyn Curtis and Mary McCoy
for sharing the road with me.

My family—the Gilbert, Loy, Rodriguez, and Bock clans—for their love and support. Everyone should have such a stalwart team.

Andi Heggem, Annie Perez, Christine Chong, Helena Geefay, Joe Rogel, Larry Tu, Minh and Jenn Nguyen, Ryan Yim, Serina Chang, and Tim Kim, and all their wonderful other halves, for
everything.

My brother, Brett, for not choosing a lesser sport. I always knew the millions of baseball games I got dragged to to watch you play would come in handy someday.

My parents, Kirk and Teri Gilbert, for giving me every opportunity they could and for their incredibly steadfast belief in me.

Audrey, who didn’t help much with the writing, but who brought me so much joy throughout the process and brightened my whole world.

And thanks most of all to Jesse, for dreaming along with me always. You are my favorite.

K
ELLY
L
OY
G
ILBERT
believes deeply in the power of stories to illuminate a
shared humanity and give voice to complex, broken people. She is passionate about social justice, the San Francisco Giants, and organizing things by color. She studied writing at the University of
California—San Diego and San Francisco State, and enjoys serving on the NaNoWriMo Associate Board and leading creative writing workshops for teens. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area
with her family in an apartment teeming with books. She would be thrilled to hear from you on Twitter
@KellyLoyGilbert
or at
www.KellyLoyGilbert.com
.