By Janet Gurtler
Janet Gurtler's books were hailed as "just correct for enthusiasts of Sarah Dessen and Jodi Picoult" (Booklist) and "reminiscent of Judy Blume" (RT e-book Reviews). Her newest modern YA novel is by means of turns gripping, heart-wrenching, and joyous as one teenager lady has to discover the braveness to hold on after a devastating tragedy.
She by no means idea a kiss may kill...
As the recent woman on the town, Samantha simply desires to slot in. Being invited to a celebration via her fellow swim workforce participants is her large chance...especially due to the fact Zee should be there. He hasn't made a mystery of checking her out on the pool. Sam did not determine on Alex being there too. She slightly even understands him. and he or she definitely did not plan to kiss him. It simply form of occurred.
And then Alex dies―right in her arms...
Consumed via guilt and grief, Sam has no inspiration what to do or the place to show while each person in class blames her. What follows is Sam's sincere, uncooked, and unforgettable trip to forgive herself and locate balance―maybe even love―in a existence that all at once appears spinning uncontrolled.
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Extra info for Who I Kissed
I’m operating up the road at the sidewalk contrary our apartment. My brain is complete. Chloe. Casper. Zee. i must method all of it. At our condo the porch mild is on, and that i see Aunt Allie on the entrance door. Her laughter incorporates around the highway, and 2 tremendous tall trick-or-treaters stand in entrance along with her. little ones in dress. I left the pool at virtually 9, so they’re certainly pushing their good fortune gathering leftovers this past due. each older child is aware the trick. humans unload whatever’s left within the bowl to get the final of the sweet out of the home. They’re fortunate Aunt Allie is answering the door, no longer Dad. as though she senses me, Aunt Allie seems to be around the highway and waves. “Hi, Sam! ” Fredrick barks his raspy little woof. I see his little physique as he is taking off out front door. The black wings on his bat gown flop backward and forward. i will be able to nearly see a tiny grin on his face and listen to his chortle as he fees towards me, swifter than his little pencil legs glance able to sporting him. in the back of me, a motor vehicle engine roars. “Fredrick! ” Aunt Allie screams. “Come right here. Come. ” “No,” I echo from the other finish of the road. every thing slows. I flip to determine a silver hatchback riding ahead. Fredrick fees onward, unaware. His nails click-click at the pavement. “Noooooooooo,” I cry back. “Freeeeeeeeedrrrrriiickkkk! ” Aunt Allie’s voice floats above the opposite sounds. the motive force spots the little black blur working immediately for the automobile wheels and slams the breaks. The sound of squealing tires joins in with the voices. In stereo. A capella. “Fredrick! ” Scrrreeeeeeeeech. “Nooooooooooooo! ” after which there’s a tiny thwap. And silence. Fredrick’s little physique hits the automobile, and he flops down on his facet at the street. now not relocating. I run on the automobile, that is now spun sideways in the street, stopped. Aunt Allie races up the driveway. adolescents dressed as zombies stick with her yet run extra slowly, fueled by way of interest, no longer panic. I achieve him first, because the entrance door of the automobile is commencing. “Fredrick? ” Tears and panic combine and contort my face. “No! No! No! ” Aunt Allie is working towards us. the teens gawk. I kneel down. Fredrick’s eyes are closed. He’s no longer budging. “Oh, Fredrick,” I moan. I blink, attempting to technique it. a sense of déjà vu creeps into my head. “Oh my God! ” a feminine voice shouts. “Samantha? I didn’t see him. Is he ok? ” The voice registers in my mind, yet Aunt Allie’s voice fills my ears. “Oh, Sam,” she cries. “How is he? ” I achieve down. placed my hand on his bulging belly. chilly sweat kinds on my head, making icicles to compare those in my hair. “Fredrick? ” I placed my different hand on him. “Fredrick? ” the woman bends down beside me. She’s crying. “Oh my God. Is he your puppy? I didn’t see him. I swear. Is he—” “No,” Aunt Allie cries. Her hand covers her mouth. “No,” she repeats. “He can’t be useless. He can’t be. ” “I’m so sorry. I didn’t see him,” she says many times. Her eyes are teary and vast. “Quiet! ” I yell at her. “Chloe. Please. ” She instantly clamps her surrender her mouth. Aunt Allie kneels beside me. the teenagers creep ahead, yet they don’t come nearer and don’t say a observe.