A fourteen-year-old trying to find her way in the world, Doreen is as much an outcast at school as she is at home. Marginalized by her peers, misunderstood by her parents, and mourning the loss of her older brother who disappeared when she was just a child, Doreen finds solace in her fierce love of music and in her best friend, Ted.
But when her older sister begins dating a bewildering twenty-one-year-old named Matthew, Doreen must confront feelings she never knew she possessed. Forced into adulthood kicking and screaming (not to mention swearing), Doreen ultimately impels her troubled family to forge a new understanding of the world -- and, maybe more surprisingly, of one another.
High school is bad enough; it's worse when you have only one friend in the world and a family that just doesn't get it. This breathless coming-of-age novel explores the alienation of adolescence and introduces a bold and shimmering new voice in fiction.
Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.
Louisa Luna is the author of Brave New Girl and Crooked. She lives in New York City.Excerpt. İ Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
Tracey says youıre an idiot, you donıt know anything, youıre a kid, get the fuck out of my room.Dad says donıt do anything stupid, no stupid children I made, donıt cry it doesnıt get you anywhere, only you can get you somewhere, donıt screw up and leave me the mess to collect after.Mom says donıt swear, donıt go out with Ted so much, donıt let people think youıre filthy and fast, keep your room clean, do all your homework, make some friends who are girls.I donıt say anything and just leave, because itıs easier.Tedıs waiting for me by the 7-Eleven, sitting on the curb, holding his skateboard. I walk up to him, and he looks up and squints because heıs not wearing his glasses like heıs supposed to.I got two bucks, he says.Cigarettes? I ask.I got a better idea.He stands up and kicks off on his skateboard and rides slow so I can keep up.Whatıs going on? he asks me.Nothing.You going home for dinner? he says.I donıt know.You can come over if you want.Will your mom be pissed? I ask.He shrugs. He says, Sheıll be having her own party.Tedıs momıs a real bad drunk, and everyone knows it. Thatıs part of the reason Mom doesnıt like me hanging out with him, but itıs mostly because she doesnıt like me spending all my time with a boy. Tedıs my only friend. We were each otherıs only friend in junior high, and I canıt imagine people being any nicer in high school, so weıre still going to be each otherıs only friend come September.Nobody likes him because heıs quiet and dorky and not really cute and maybe looks a little too delicate. Nobody likes me because Iım boring and donıt say much and still dress like Iım ten.Itıs superhot but you really canıt expect anything else here in July. I hate walking around outside in this weather because I just donıt stop sweating and the smogıs really bad, and all I really want to do is lie down. But me and Ted keep going until we get to the Trader Joeıs, and he tells me to wait, and he goes inside.He comes back with a bag of chocolate-mint UFO candies, and we sit down on the ground in the parking lot and donıt say anything, and we eat them and eat them until they begin to taste chalky and weıre so thirsty we could die. But we keep eating them until theyıre all gone and we both feel like throwing up.By the time I get home, the place smells like meat and onions, and I figure Momıs cooking steak. I go into the living room, and Dadıs there drinking a scotch and asks where Iıve been.I was out with Ted, I start to say, but before I can finish heıs yelling, Tracey!Tracey comes out of her room, and sheıs wearing makeup and a tiny little T-shirt that says Hostess on it and makes her boobs look huge. Thereıs this guy behind her, with her, I guess, and he has black hair and black eyes and he looks sort of mean, but when he sees me he smiles.What, Dad? Tracey says, sounding all sweet for her friend.Is your friend staying for dinner? Dad asks, not looking at either of them.Yeah. Mom said it was cool, Tracey says.Dad nods.Oh, Dor, she says, like she hasnıt seen me in days. This is Matthew, she says. Matthew, this is my little sister, Doreen.Nice to meet you, Matthew says, holding out his hand, smiling, and I notice that his teeth look like a bunch of Chiclets.Hi, I say.Is that all you have to say? Tracey says, all annoyed.How are you? I say.Pretty good, he answers, and he laughs a little.My familyıs not very talkative, Tracey says, and then she laughs and makes herself sound real dumb.At dinner, Tracey keeps talking, and she keeps giving me looks, like Iım supposed to ask questions and act interested, but I really donıt have anything to say. Dadıs actually speaking more than usual, and Matthewıs saying some funny things I guess, and Dadıs laughing, but heıs really mostly tired like he is all the time, and Iım pretty sure heıs on his third scotch.Momıs smiling because she likes the boys Tracey brings home because theyıre all polite. I think theyıre pretty smarmy.Are you excited for high school, Doreen? Matthew asks, and Iım caught off-guard because usually nobody asks me questions, specifically.I guess, I say.Donıt be. Itıs dumb, he says. Then he winks at me.I feel a little twist inside my stomach.Then I keep eating, avoiding the steak because the smell of it is making me feel sick, and Tracey keeps yammering, which is enough to make anyone nauseous.I was talking to this girl, she says, whose boyfriend goes to Cal and he said that there was a really good linguistics . . .Blah blah blah.I look up at Matthew, thinking maybe heıll wink my way again, but he doesnıt look at me. He doesnıt look at Tracey either, though. Instead heıs staring down at his plate. His steak and potatoes and salad and bread are all separated. He reminds me of a little kid. Donıt let the food touch.I think maybe Matthewıs what Henry looks like now. Except Iım almost positive Henry doesnıt have a mouthful of Chiclets.How old are you? I ask Matthew, while Traceyıs in the middle of a sentence.Doreen, donıt interrupt like that, Mom says.Say youıre sorry, Dad says.Sorry. How old are you, I ask Matthew again.He looks right at me.Twenty-one.I donıt say anything. Henryıs twenty-four. Ten years older than me exactly. Almost to the day. He was born March second, and I was born March seventh.How old are you? Matthew asks, and Iım a little surprised.Fourteen, I say.Thatıs a great age to be, Matthew says.You just said high schoolıs dumb, I say.Dor, Tracey says, kind of laughing, like it was a silly thing I just said.Youıre right. I did just say that, Matthew says. I guess I have mixed feelings on the subject.Everyone laughs a little.I donıt get it.Thereıs a knock.Yeah? I say.Hi, Matthew says. Can I come in?Sure, I say. Iım lying on my bed, reading the playlist on this mix tape Ted gave me last year.He opens the door and smiles, walks in and starts checking out the stuff on my walls.Youıre a big Pixies fan, he says.Yeah, theyıre alright, I say, even though I know theyıre the best thing in the world.I like them too, he says.I watch him looking at everything, touching everything a little bit. He keeps talking to me but doesnıt face me. He just stares at my wall, my CDs, the little picture of Ted that was taken when we were in the seventh grade, which is so old now that itıs curling in at the edges.Is this your boyfriend? Matthew says, tapping it.No, heıs just a friend. Weıre not going out or anything, I say.I donıt even know if Matthewıs still listening, so I just keep talking.Everyone thinks we are, though, I say.Like who? Matthew says.I guess he is listening.Everyone, I say. All the kids we go to school with, my mom . . .Donıt you tell them how it is? he asks, interrupting, and now heıs looking at me like itıs the most important question heıs ever asked anyone.No, I say.Why not? he asks.Because I donıt care, really, what any of them think, I say.He smiles really slow now and gives me a nod.Thatıs good, Doreen, he says. You shouldnıt care what anyone thinks.I donıt have anything else to say, but he keeps staring at me. So I just stare back and make it a game for myself?how long can I go without blinking, and then I hear Tracey in the hallway.Matthew? she says.Iım here, he says loudly, still staring. Iım coming, he says.Then he just turns around and walks out without saying goodbye, and I shut my eyes, and they tear because theyıre so dry.Traceyıs done some crazy things, I guess. Sheıs stayed out all night without calling. She got caught drunk at her junior prom. She says she never became a real raver because all the ravers she knows are stupid. Sheıs pretty stupid, though. I hear her on the phone sometimes, and I just want to rip the baby barrettes right out of her boy-haircut. She mostly kisses Mom and Dadıs ass and then talks about how she owns them to her friends. She has a lot of friends. She always has boys calling her. Always has. She just canıt wait to go to college in the fall so she can get out of the house and away from all of us. She hates me because I donıt talk. She hates Mom because sheıs indifferent. She hates Dad because heıs not really nice. She really doesnıt remember Henry at all, but if he was around, Iım sure sheıd hate him too.We should start a band, Ted says to me, sitting on the couch in his basement TV room, drumming the coffee table.I donıt know how to play anything, I say.Doesnıt matter, he says. We can learn.What should I play? I ask.Bass, he says.The best bands in the world have female bassists, he says.I get to name it, I say.OK, what do you want to name it? he says.I donıt know yet, I say.We start making up a song we decide to call ³Crackbabies,² but basically itıs all a joke and all weıre doing is laughing so hard our faces hurt.Then his mom buzzes down on the intercom they have built into the phone.Ted, come up here please, she says.Ted gets all tight-looking and says, Be right back. You can put on MTV if you want. Then he leaves.I donıt feel like putting on MTV because all they play is trash. I sit there with my feet on the coffee table, looking at the fake-wood walls and the brownish shag carpet that always smells a little funny. Thereıs this ashtray on the table thatıs in the shape of a bathtub with a woman in it. Tedıs mom smokes. I think thatıs strange?the only people I see smoking are kids.We usually hang out in the basement when weıre at Tedıs, because you never know what kind of a mood his momıs going to be in. He likes me to see his mom the least amount possible. I can understand why, because sheıs done some pretty embarrassing things in front of me, but I donıt really care. I donıt like anyone to see my family either.The intercom buzzes again.Doreen? Tedıs mom says.Yeah? I say.Could you come up here? she says.Sure, I say.I walk up the stairs, and I can hear Tedıs mom talking really fast, and I can picture Ted even before I get to the kitchen.Heıs sitting there, slumped down in one of the chairs, not looking at his mom, not even looking at me when I come in.I donıt think Iım being unreasonable, baby, Tedıs mom is saying. Doreen, let me ask you, she says. Sheıs wearing a pink dress with big purple flowers.Mom, ...
Über diesen Titel kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.
Buchbeschreibung MTV Books. PAPERBACK. Buchzustand: Fine. 0743407865 Later printing. Fine. Quality, Value, Experience. Media Shipped in New Boxes. Artikel-Nr. BING835APP002