Inhaltsangabe
A tragic car wreck leads to PTSD and therapeutic salvation in this novel from the author of America, which Kirkus Reviews deemed “a work of sublime humanity.”
Anna is involved in a horrific accident one night that leaves her brother’s beautiful and popular girlfriend dead. Suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, she begins an unusual method of therapy called EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing). Through her therapy, dreams, memories, and experiences, we begin to see, along with Anna, the full picture of her controlling father, her lost relationship with her brother, and her overwhelming guilt about the wreck.
With a deep understanding of the minds of teenagers, and a deft hand in translating that to the page, E.R. Frank presents a story with real and challenging characters, beautifully told and filled with haunting images.
Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.
Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor
E.R. Frank is the author of America, Friction, Wrecked, and Dime. Her first novel, Life Is Funny, won the Teen People Book Club NEXT Award for YA Fiction and was also a top-ten ALA 2001 Quick Pick. In addition to being writer, E.R. Frank is also a clinical social worker and psychotherapist. She works with adults and adolescents and specializes in trauma.
Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.
Wrecked
1
WE’RE AT ELLEN’S. She’s flattening her brown hair, slicking it back into one long ponytail.
“It’s too early to leave,” she’s saying. “Things won’t get going until at least twelve.”
“Well, it’s twelve now,” I tell her. “And we’re still not ready.”
“You want to call Lisa and them, and see where they are?”
I dial, and some guy answers. “What’s up?” There’s giggling in the background.
“Seth!” the giggler goes. I think it might be Lisa. “Give it back!”
“Is Lisa there?” I ask.
Ellen and I are sort of between groups right now. Last year we hung out a lot with this other Anna, and Katy and Slater and Kevin and Trace. But the other Anna switched schools, and Katy and Slater started wearing black lipstick and shaving their heads and telling us we were conformists, and Kevin and Trace started dating each other and never hanging out with anybody else, and things just sort of dissolved from there.
“Give it!” I hear Lisa shouting over her own giggles.
“What’s going on?” Ellen asks.
“I think it’s Seth. That guy who wears the sleeve,” I say. A sleeve is this thing that looks sort of like a combination of a glove with no finger coverage and a sock that fits all the way up to your elbow. Other than the sleeve, Seth’s pretty cute.
“Oh,” Ellen goes. “Sleev-eth.”
“Listen,” I tell the phone. “Could you put Lisa on?” I try to sound sarcastic and bossy, but I’m not so good at that. Ellen is slightly better at it than I am. Neither of us is nearly as masterful as the Ashleys. Which is fine, because we have no desire to be complete bitches. Just to know how when necessary.
“Who’s this?” Seth asks.
“Who is it?” I hear Lisa say.
“Give her the phone, man,” some other guy complains.
“This is Anna,” I say. “Ask Lisa if she’s going to the party at Wayne’s.”
“Yeah.” It’s still Seth. “We’re going. Is this Anna Lawson?”
I cover the phone with my hand. “Ellen,” I whisper. “Sleev-eth knows who I am.”
“Good,” she goes.
“How do you know who I am?” I ask into the cell.
“It’s me,” Lisa says. I guess Sleev-eth gave hers back. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes.”
“Us too,” I say. “Ellen’s taking forever to do her hair.”
“I am not,” Ellen goes. “Ask if they have beer.” Ellen’s developed a taste for alcohol lately. I haven’t. I don’t like beer, for one thing. For another, I do like knowing what’s going on.
“Do you guys have beer?” I ask.
“Yeah, plus Jack Daniel’s.”
“They’ve got Jack Daniel’s,” I tell Ellen.
“Where did they get that?”
“Anna?” It’s Sleev-eth again.
“Seth!” I hear Lisa scream. Then the signal goes dead.
I flip down my phone. Ellen tugs at her ponytail and then turns from her mirror to look at me.
“You don’t want to go, do you,” she says.
“Yeah I do.”
“You wanted to bitch some more about your father and then see Rocky Horror.”
“Maybe. But it’s too late.” Rocky Horror always starts at midnight.
“I kind of like parties now,” Ellen tells me. Neither of us used to. Last year we would go to the mall instead. Or to Top Hats, our favorite diner. We thought parties were stupid up until about a month ago.
“I like parties too,” I lie.
“No you don’t. You always nurse a beer and stay in one place the whole time.”
I don’t know what to say to that. Ellen’s been my best friend since we were nine. She knows me better than anybody. Really, anybody.
“You don’t like me anymore,” I sulk. “You’re going to get in with the Ashleys and break them up and be one of their best friends and dump me.” I’m only half kidding.
“Don’t be stupid,” she goes. “I just want to have some fun.”
“Well, I do too,” I say.
“Since when?”
“Since today.”
“Oh, yeah?” she asks. “Do I have your dad to thank for that?”
“Whoever you want to thank,” I tell her. “But I’m going to have fun flirting with Sleev-eth. And I’m going to have fun drinking.”
She’s always said I’m more of a stoner than a drinker, if I ever had the guts to do either. I’ve always said it’s not about guts. It’s just that I don’t want to do drugs because if I got caught or something bad happened, my father would kill me. That’s where Ellen usually rolls her eyes, and I wonder if she actually knows me better than I know me, and then I get nervous if I don’t switch the subject in my head.
“Well, don’t have too much fun,” Ellen’s warning me now, “because one of us has to be able to drive.”
“Okay,” I say. “Then, I’ll just flirt.”
“Good,” Ellen goes. “Let’s leaf now.”
“Ha,” I tell her.
Wayne’s house is sort of like mine. Old and big with a huge front and back lawn. Which makes me think about my father and the fight we had before I left.
“You will not leave this house until that grass is taken care of,” my dad said. He isn’t used to me not doing what he asks. I’m not used to it either. But whatever it was that made me dump out those leaves earlier wouldn’t let me give in.
“No,” I argued. I was already late. I’d told Ellen I’d be there ten minutes ago. I was working hard to keep my head from going fuzzy, the way it gets when my father has me trapped somehow. Because even though I’m usually sure that it’s something the matter with him that starts it all, I always end up feeling like there’s something worse the matter with me for not seeing things his way.
So I tried to sound reasonable. My dad likes reasonable. “I’m sorry I didn’t do it already,” I said, as calm as I could. “But it’s dark out now. Plus, it doesn’t make sense to hand pick up leaves. I’ll rake tomorrow, but tonight I’m going to Ellen’s.” Then I held my breath and started walking through the kitchen, Jack was at the table, waiting for his girlfriend to come over and typing some new movie review, probably, onto his Web site. Or maybe checking his UCLA admissions status.
“Stop,” my father ordered. I didn’t stop. “You stop right there.” The fuzz went black while he moved in front of me to block the mudroom door. Jack didn’t even look up. He can get so absorbed in whatever he’s doing that he wouldn’t notice if a hurricane hit.
“Dad!” I said.
I heard my mother’s hard-soled shoes clack on the stairs. My father was standing so close I could feel the heat of him on me. “Give me the keys,” he ordered.
“No....
„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.
Weitere beliebte Ausgaben desselben Titels
Suchergebnisse für Wrecked
Beispielbild für diese ISBN
Wrecked
Verlag:
Atheneum Books for Young Readers, 2015
ISBN 10: 1481451375
ISBN 13: 9781481451376
Gebraucht
Softcover
Anbieter: World of Books (was SecondSale), Montgomery, IL, USA
Verkäuferbewertung 5 von 5 Sternen
Zustand: Very Good. Item in good condition. Textbooks may not include supplemental items i.e. CDs, access codes etc. Artikel-Nr. 00071479967
Gebraucht kaufen
EUR 5,94
Versand gratis
Versand innerhalb von USA
Versand innerhalb von USA
Anzahl: 1 verfügbar