9780375863431: Chasing Shadows
Softcover
ISBN 10: 0375863435 ISBN 13: 9780375863431
Verlag: Ember, 2015

Inhaltsangabe

“A superb novel about grief, friendship, and mental illness, mixing in graphic-novel elements and themes from Hindu mythology.” —Publishers Weekly, Starred
 
Corey, Holly, and Savitri are closer than family until a random act of violence shatters their world. A gunman shoots at their car, leaving Corey dead, Holly in a coma, and Savitri the sole witness to the crime.
 
When Holly wakes up, she is changed—determined to hunt down Corey’s killer, whatever the cost. Savitri fears that Holly is running wild, losing her grip on reality. Friends should stand by each other in times of crisis. But can you hold on too tight? Too long?
 
Swati Avasthi delivers a riveting novel that will appeal to fans of Laini Taylor and Laurie Halse Anderson.
 
“Haunting, mesmerizing and intense.” —Kirkus Reviews, Starred
 
“[A] visceral story of love, grief, and madness that is both action-packed and psychologically acute.” —The Horn Book




From the Hardcover edition.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

SWATI AVASTHI is the author of the highly acclaimed novel Split, winner of the IRA Book Award and the Cybils Award. Ms. Avasthi received her MFA from the University of Minnesota and currently teaches in Hamline University’s MFA program in Writing for Children and Young Adults. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and two children. Visit her at swatiavasthi.com.
 
CRAIG PHILLIPS is an award-winning illustrator whose work has appeared on book jackets, in publications like Rolling Stone, and on tour posters for bands, including the Foo Fighters and the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He lives in New Zealand with his family.


From the Hardcover edition.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Holly
I am not The Leopardess, but sometimes I wish I were.
As I dangle off the edge of this roof, I could use her steel claws. Superheroes get Wicked Toys, Cinematic Escapes, and Guaranteed Wins. If I could live in a comic, I'd be The Leopardess. And if I were The Leopardess, I'd be Fearless.
But I'm just Holly Paxton, so I have to run my fear ragged.
I tighten my grip on the cold edge of the roof, close my eyes, and open my breathing. Deep into my body. I sink into freerunning mode. Where my thoughts are dictated by the Morse code of footsteps and the flow from jump to jump. Where Fear Cannot Leash Me.
See your way to safety--my dad's advice when he trains rookie cops--rings through my head. If you can see your way out, you can find your way out.
It works for freerunners too. I force myself to ignore Hungry Gravity and the four stories of free space below, and picture my escape.
My right foot finds the wall. Followed by my left. I jump, jump, jump them up until they are crouched beneath me--and I'm in cat-grab position, hands gripping, legs tucked, ready to spring.
Safe now. Not so different from The Leopardess after all.
Savitri sails over me. Her th-thump landing--much heavier than she is--shakes my grip and I try to dig my fingers into stone.
"I've got you, Holly."
She grabs my wrist, but I don't loosen my grip; I can fix this on my own. More than fix it. Fast as I can, I muscle up, pulling my weight and tucking my feet until I'm crouched on the ledge. I go for a showy move to cover. An A-twist--big one-footed takeoff, flying cartwheel plus a half twist--should do the trick. Just in time, Sav releases my wrist and flattens herself against the roof and I twist over her. As if we'd planned it.
I land, soft as a cat. She laughs. Too loudly; she must have seen how my feet caught the edge instead of clearing it. A quick fall. And quicker grab. Good Reactions--Leopardess-pace reactions. Thank God.
I glance at Corey, my Twin Bro, who is on the far side of the roof already.
Sav gets up, her shirt polka-dotted with rooftop gravel. She squints at me, ever watchful.
"So?" she asks. Our way of checking in.
Options: Collapse and Cry or Keep Moving.
"So," I say. "Close."
"Centimeters." Her voice quiet and as gravelly as the rooftop.
Sav has the best voice in the history of womanhood. Corey calls it sandpaper wrapped in silk. I try to concentrate on that, rather than on how her voice is shaking. Must have looked bad. Must have been bad.
"So." I deliberately unclench my hands. Never Let Fear Rule. "Ready?"
Before she answers, I take off and the world rushes at me. All speed. No hesitation. Just my own heat, pumped from my own heart, running my own blood.
Which helps stop the shaking and settle the stomach.
Corey is closing the distance to the front of the building, to the facade that upgrades its look: a fancy brick front to dress up the cheap sides and a short brick wall that rises above the roof in steps toward a capstone. On his way, he detours, jumps over a single forgotten planter, and then races up the steps to the capstone. I go after him. Sav--just a couple of seconds back--sprints to the far side and joins us. Sav, be nimble; Sav, be quick. When all three of us are gathered on the makeshift podium, panting out our own steam, we Survey Our Domain. I grab Corey's hand and he grabs Savitri's. We stand together for a Moment of Us--our training sign-off.
The Chicago wind kicks up, bringing us a sample of lesser scents from below: rotting apples and nicotine. Snow lies on the ground in half-melted lumps, like campfire-burned marshmallows: black pollution crusts with slashes of white. This false spring day turned the skies a shocking blue, drove the thermometer far above freezing, and Let Us Out. Into our city. So much better than training in a gym with soft mats and predictable obstacles.
When you freerun outside, a standard row of storefronts becomes a multilevel playground. We turn stoops into springboards, ricochet off walls, and throw flips off parapets. We scale buildings, using window ledges as complex ladders. Run outside and the city is no longer dead concrete and asphalt. It becomes an instrument--my instrument. Per-cuss-ive. I. Wake. It. Up.
Now Corey--who apparently has one more trick in him--scoots his feet back to the edge, prepping for a handstand fifty feet from the pavement. I steal Sav's smile: hers fades while mine grows. Sav worries too much; Corey's indestructible.
He places his palms on the platform and levers his legs over his head. Muscles over gravity. Complete control. His blond hair hangs and his face goes from cream to eggplant while blue veins bulge in his neck. His sneakers slice through the setting sun.
I let out a howl that gets Sav to startle and Corey to laugh--his body shaking. He pikes down and, seamlessly, flips backward. I throw a Webster--cartwheeling through the air. Sav just hops down. As Corey walks up to her, she shakes her head and walks away, toward the gardening shed that sits in the corner of the rooftop.
"What's wrong?" he calls to her back. "I'm okay, aren't I?"
"You're perfect," she says, her voice flat.
Corey and I exchange a glance. My turn. As I walk toward her, she is brushing off the gravel that is still clinging to her. She de-pebbles her palms, leaving pink dimples behind. I pick one from her ponytail. We become Monkeys of the City.
"Are you all right?" she asks me.
We've covered this already. Which means she isn't really asking. She's keeping the light on me to hide her own struggle in the shadows. Tricky Sav, tricks don't work on me.
"Better than okay. Great," I say, swallowing the leftover panic.
I hold out a fist and we bump knuckles. Once our hands meet, we unfold our fingers and whisper-hiss: sssshhhaw, the sound of steam power.
I'm about to ask her what's wrong when Sav turns on Corey.
"Did you notice that your sister nearly missed the roof? And here you are, four stories up and--"
"Whoa, whoa, wait a second," Corey says, and puts his hand up. He turns to look at me. I swallow hard.
When I tell him about the stutter step that threw me off, he goes through the "are you okay?" motions to appease Sav. Obviously I'm okay; I'm standing here, aren't I? But Sav has never been entirely on board with the New and Improved version of freerunning we started after the Josh Debacle. Sav argues on the side of Safety Nets and Ground Only. We're on the side of Adrenaline and Rooftops.
But then he says, "You knew it was wrong at the takeoff?"
And I realize he isn't worried about my Here and Now body--he's worried about how long I had to panic. A jump has three parts: takeoff, midair, and landing. You can control the takeoff, driving your muscles, and you can control the landing, channeling your flow. But in the air--those moments when you are Defying the Physical Laws of Gravity--you can't change your momentum, can't reverse your flow. You are In. That. Moment. And there's no going back. It would be a long time in the air to panic.
"No, it all looked good," I say. "I had the ledge in my hands before I even thought about the fall."
His face relaxes and he walks toward Sav, striding into a dive roll that comes up at her feet.
"See," he says, "it's all good."
She doesn't smile, but she lets him take her hand. Still, he has to do all the leaning to kiss her. Mid-kiss, she grabs his face and yanks him closer. Corey hesitates--startled--before stepping in, slipping his hand around her, and pressing on the small of her back.
Her move, his response means one thing: she hasn't mentioned Princeton.
She wasn't supposed to hear anything until April first, like everyone else. But yesterday she brought over a McDonald's bag loaded with fries, root beer, and cherry pie. Corey, who knows that this meal is code for Best Friends Only, vanished. She showed me a letter from Princeton that...

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Verlag
Ember
Erscheinungsdatum
2015
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0375863435
ISBN 13 
9780375863431
Einband
Taschenbuch
Zeichner
Phillips Craig
Anzahl der Seiten
336
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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