Hidden Truths - Hardcover

Swartz, Elly

 
9780593483664: Hidden Truths
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0593483669 ISBN 13: 9780593483664
Verlag: Delacorte Press, 2023

Inhaltsangabe

How far would you go to keep a promise? Told from alternating points of view, Hidden Truths is a story of changing friendships, the lies we tell, the secrets we keep, and the healing power of forgiveness.

Dani and Eric have been best friends since Dani moved next door in second grade. They bond over donuts, comic books, and camping on the Cape.

Until one summer when everything changes.

Did Eric cause the accident that leaves Dani unable to do the one thing in the world she most cares about? The question plagues him, and he will do anything to get answers about the explosion that injured her. But Dani is hurting too much to want Eric to pursue the truth—she just wants to shut him out and move on. Besides, Eric has a history of dropping things he starts. Eric knows that and is determined that this will be the one time he follows through.

But what if his pursuit brings him into direct conflict with another friend? Where does Eric’s loyalty really lie?

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Elly Swartz lives in Massachusetts and is happily married with two grown sons, a beagle named Lucy, and a pup named Baxter Bean. Dear Student, called a "heartfelt story with a fresh plot" by Parents Magazine, was her latest novel. She is also the author of Finding Perfect, Smart Cookie, and Give and Take, novels for middle-grade readers.

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1


Didn’t Know


I didn’t know today would matter.

I didn’t know it would change everything.

I thought what mattered had already happened.

I was wrong.




2


Ostrich Legs


I squeeze the baseball in my hand and squint through my mirrored sunglasses at the sea of boys swirling around me. McKinnon stretches his long ostrich legs as he throws lefty to Braden. In the outfield are Billings, Henry, and some kid I don’t recognize with a mouth full of red braces.

I stand on the pitching mound and close my eyes. I hear a lawn mower somewhere and breathe in a mix of grass and dirt, hoping it will calm the nerves marching up my spine. Today I find out if I made the baseball team.

I open my eyes and slide my left hand into the baseball glove I named Betty. The leather’s worn and it molds around my fingers. I exhale and hear the buzz of boys talking and laughing, but I don’t say a word. I can’t. I don’t want to jinx it.

Tryouts were held the morning I left for baseball camp. It had just rained, and the air was sticky. It was me and a pack of boys. All boys. Like always. But that day my arm was fire. Fastball after fastball landed smack in the catcher’s mitt. I stand on the mound now, hoping that was enough.

Coach Levi said he’d be at the field by ten.

I swallow hard and look at my phone. It’s 10:05.

I slip my phone back into my pocket and squeeze the baseball. The stitching feels good against my palm.

Then I see Coach Levi walking across the field. My stomach flips.

As he gets closer, the kids scattered around the field move like a swarm toward the dugout.

Please let this be good news.

“Well, hello, everyone,” Coach says, taking off his cap and running his hand over his buzz cut.

The clouds roll in front of the sun, and I move my sunglasses to the top of my head.

He claps his hands together. “I asked you all to the field because I wanted to congratulate you on making the Mapleville fall baseball team.”

The words linger in the air. Shock floods my brain, followed by a tidal wave of happiness.

After years of blah, blah, blah--“You’re good for a girl, but not good enough to make the team”--I finally did it!

Coach talks about the game and the practice schedule, and when he finishes, everyone erupts into cheers and high fives. And I’m part of it.

I quickly text Eric the news.

Then the team lines up and Coach hands out our uniforms. I toss my new navy-and-red Mapleville shirt over my tank top and stuff my long brown frizzle of hair into my team hat. Coach talks about working hard and supporting each other, and then says he’ll see us for practice next week.

My first official team meeting is over, and my heart is dancing.

When I look up, Eric’s leaning his mountain bike against the fence by the field.

I run over. We haven’t seen each other since I left for baseball camp a month ago. I got back this morning, just before Coach sent the email telling us to meet at the field.

“Welcome home!” he bursts out, his dimple showing.

I smile. “Thanks,” I say, glancing over my shoulder at my team. “Can you believe it? I finally got picked!”

“Totally believe it,” he says, taking something out of his backpack. “Your fastball’s a beast.”

“Yeah, but that’s never been enough. At least until now!” I pause as a neon-green Frisbee flies across the next field. “I’m excited you’re here. You look taller.”

He flexes his skinny arms. “And stronger.”

I laugh. “I didn’t think you’d come to the field. I mean, I’m seeing you later for our camping trip.”

“I know, but since you made the team, I had to bring donuts to celebrate.” He swipes his floppy curls to the side and holds up a bakery box.

I’m about to reach for a Boston cream when I hear ­McKinnon call my name. I turn around.

He’s standing in front of the boy pack, waving me over. “Team’s going for pizza.”

“Oh,” Eric says, rapid blinking. “Yeah, I mean, you should go with them.”

I look at my team in their Mapleville shirts and caps, and then back at Eric. I yell to McKinnon, “I’ll meet you there.”

Eric stares at me. “Go. It’s cool, I’ll see you later.”

“You sure?”

He nods.

“Will you save me a donut?” I ask.

He tilts his head and raises an eyebrow. “No promises.”

I laugh. “That’s fair.”

Eric hops on his bike.

“Hey, thanks for coming and for the almost-donut and for understanding how big this is.” I talk fast like I might explode with joy. “You’re the best!”

He nods.

“After this team thing, I’ll pack super quick and meet you at your house for the camping trip,” I tell him. “I want to hear about all the things I missed while I was at baseball camp.”

He gives me a thumbs-up.

“I made the team!” I shout as I wave good-bye. “I can’t even believe I finally get to say those words!”



I’m still floating from the news when I get home. Pizza with the team was kind of awkward at first, then mostly normal and fun. I didn’t know that good news could make my brain feel fizzy like cream soda. I race up to my room to pack. I promised Eric I’d be speedy.

The sun slides through my shutters. It hits my yellow shag carpet in the perfect rectangle. My golden retriever, Casey, wags her tail and stretches her giant fluff of a body across the sun-filled spot. She watches as I crank up the music, dance around my room, and open my duffel bag.

Thank goodness she’s a dog and can’t record any of this on a phone.

When the song ends, I toss in Betty, a pair of flip-flops, my super cute striped bathing suit, the SPF 80 sunblock and bug spray Mom’s forcing me to bring, a rainbow beach towel, my Mapleville baseball sweatshirt, a deck of cards, and a few other random things for my mostly annual camping trip with Eric. We skipped it last year. My grandma Gigi had died that spring, and instead of fishing and ­swimming and being eaten by mosquitoes the weekend before middle school started, we hung out in Eric’s tree fort reading ­comics, eating donuts, and talking about forever people.

I think he could tell that my heart was heavy--and not because he didn’t get that Mystique was actually the greatest comic book character of all time, but because good-byes are hard. That was the day I learned that donuts and comic books and friends can’t fix everything.

I look in the full-length mirror dangling on the back of my closet door, smile at my team gear, and twirl the coin in my pocket.

Eric gave it to me that weekend in the tree fort. He’d just devoured his glazed donut in two bites and was doing a terrible job convincing me that Iron Man was the best super­hero ever. Then he reached into his pocket and handed me the coin. He said I should have it, that it always brought him luck--and that he was sorry it was sweaty.

I flip the coin one more time. It’s over a year later, and I still like having it with me.

I glance around my room, making sure I didn’t forget anything for the camping trip. I tuck in the corners of my quilt one more time so they’re just right. Straighten...

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Delacorte Press
Erscheinungsdatum
2023
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0593483669
ISBN 13 
9780593483664
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
272
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

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