The Encyclopedia of Me (29 page)

Really flounced.

Her dress was really amazingly . . . flouncy. Layers and layers of fluffy greenish blue sparkles. Truly, truly . . . awful.

“That looks like something a mermaid threw up,” observed Kai.

I giggled. When we got inside, Freddie Blue was twirling around the dance floor, dragging Andrew Young behind her. A bunch of girls were shooting them evil looks, probably his twelve other dates.

I looked around for Ruth. I finally spotted her dancing with Jedgar. She had a video camera in her hand, and it looked like she was interviewing him while she danced. Her dress was too big and she had to keep hitching it up.

“Let's go talk to . . .” I started to say. But Kai put his finger up to my lips — JUST LIKE IN A MOVIE.

“Let's dance,” he said. “I've been, like, practicing.”

If you have never fallen in love, this will not make any sense to you, but I think that I did, right then, when he grabbed me and started doing some kind of weird slow dance to a really, really fast song. I didn't care. We just stood there and swayed.

I felt completely OK. For maybe the first time ever, I didn't feel nervous or anxious or upset or like I couldn't breathe. It was perfect.

I thought about how FB was always going on about how so-and-so “took her breath away.” If we'd still been friends, I would have waited until the end of the song and excused myself from Kai, then I would have found her and I would have said, “No, FB. You're wrong. Love doesn't take your breath away. Love makes it so you CAN breathe. It gives your breath back.”

Because that's what it was like, exactly. Like I finally could breathe without thinking about it.

We danced a lot. Mostly just like that, slow.

With kissing, when the teachers weren't looking. The kissing was the best part. I felt like a new person.

I was a new person.

I wasn't Tink anymore. Tink was a kid.

Now I was Isadora. Is.

Isadora is.

Isadora is happy.

See also
Kai; Kissing.

A place where animals are stored after being kidnapped unceremoniously from their regular lives on the savannah or in the jungle or even the Arctic Ocean.

I have never been to a zoo. There. That's all. That's all I have to say about zoos.

And the letter
Z
.

And myself.

Am I done?

Did I actually just write an entire encyclopedia about myself?

Seriously?

And you read it?

Seriously?

Wow.

Now for the quiz!

I'm joking.

There isn't any quiz.
132
I told you I wasn't much good at jokes. I'm only good at dark, gummy sarcasm.

But I'm not being sarcastic when I say I love you, I love you, I love you.
133
I really mean it. I can't believe you read the whole thing.

I never thought I'd be interesting enough that anyone would read a book about me. But then a lot of things you think will never happen DO end up happening, I guess.

Like you lose a BFF but gain a BF.

Like you figure out who you are slowly, or it happens all at once, in a burst.

Like your family breaks and then, when it's put back together, it heals along the breaks and is stronger than it was before. That happens to bones, you know. The broken parts never break again in the same place. The repair that your body does makes it too strong.

Now all that's left to say is “THE END.” Even though real encyclopedias don't do that either. But this isn't a real encyclopedia. It's better.

Just like I promised, remember?

This book took a very long time to write, during which time a number of people came and went from my life, both personally and professionally. In that way, this book feels like it spans a lifetime. I would be remiss if I did not thank the first people on the scene, the agents: Carolyn Swayze, who was first; Colleen Lindsay, who revitalized me with her amazing energy, and whose enthusiastic belief was contagious; and finally, Marissa Walsh, the last woman standing, who I hope will be with me for all the books to come.

To my editor, Cheryl Klein, who plucked this book out of the slush pile and breathed new life into my original idea, there are not enough words. “Thank you” feels inadequate, but . . . thank you. For the work, time, passion, insights, and consideration. I am still entirely astounded — flabbergasted, even—that I find myself on your roster, in the company of some of my most favorite of favorite authors. This experience was a dream — a dream that involved so much work, done with such passion, by such an amazing group of talented people. How did I get so lucky? Thank you, times a million, to all of you at Arthur A. Levine Books, both those I can identify and the ones whose names or faces I didn't see. I know you were there, and I appreciate it all.

I love social media. I once said it was a “blip” and I was wrong. I am thankful to all of you out there who ever made me smile, encouraged me, or were just there alongside me as I accumulated pages, procrastinated, and revised. The Internet is the watercooler that writers gather around, and it never stops providing exactly what I need to stay motivated, grounded, inspired, and laughing.

On a more personal note, I am so blessed by and intensely grateful for my beloved family, the Rivers, for their ongoing support, time, love, and (sometimes slightly crazy) belief in my abilities.

Thanks must also go to my other family, for the Saturdays. And especially to Malcolm and Clayton, who taught me what autism really means.

A huge, giant, massive hug to my kids, who are too young to read this . . . yet. Thank you for being so purely yourselves; for the way you make each other laugh when I'm swamped with work; for listening to my favorite song with me so often and so loudly that the speakers broke; for dancing like lunatics on the furniture; and for giving me every reason I could ever need to keep going and also, sometimes, to stop.

A shout-out to all of you who don't do olives and who know what that means. Every step of the way, you propped me up and kept me going and listened and gave me advice that I sometimes ignored but mostly followed. BFFs 4ever!

Finally, I am ever grateful for the financial support provided to me by the British Columbia Arts Council, whose grant program bought me the time early on to work on this novel and helped me to believe that it would really fly one day. Thank you.