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About Someone Like You
Product Description From the award-winning and New York Times bestselling author of Once and for AllThe world is a terrible place not to have a best friend. Scarlett was always the strong one. Halley was always content to follow in her wake. Then Scarlett’s boyfriend died, and Scarlett learned that she was pregnant. Now Halley has to find the strength to take the lead and help Scarlett get through it. Because true friendship is a promise you keep forever. * “Dessen has written a powerful, polished story.”—School Library Journal, starred review Sarah Dessen is the winner of the Margaret A. Edwards Award for her contributions to YA literature, as well as the Romantic Times Career Achievement Award. Books by Sarah Dessen: That SummerSomeone Like YouKeeping the MoonDreamlandThis LullabyThe Truth About Forever Just ListenLock and KeyAlong for the RideWhat Happened to GoodbyeThe Moon and MoreSaint Anything Once and for All Review "Dessen has written a powerful, polished story." ( SLJ, starred review) About the Author Sarah Dessen is the author of thirteen novels, which include the New York Times bestsellers The Moon and More, What Happened to Goodbye, Along for the Ride, Lock and Key, Just Listen, The Truth About Forever, and This Lullaby. Her first two books, That Summer and Someone Like You, were made into the movie How to Deal. Dessen’s books are frequently chosen for the Teens’ Top Ten list and the list of Best Fiction for Young Adults. They have been translated into twenty-five languages. Sarah Dessen is the recipient of the 2017 Margaret A. Edwards Award from the Young Adult division of the American Library Association. Sarah Dessen graduated from the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill with highest honors in creative writing. She lives in Chapel Hill with her husband, Jay, and their daughter, Sasha Clementine. Visit Sarah at sarahdessen.com. Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved. CHAPTER ONE Scarlett Thomas has been my best friend for as long as I can remember. That's why I knew when she called me at Sisterhood Camp, during the worst week of my life, that something was wrong even before she said it. Just by her voice on the other end of the line. I knew. "It's Michael," she said quietly. Her words crackled over distance. "Michael Sherwood." "What about him?" The camp director, a woman named Ruth with short hair and Birkenstocks, shifted impatiently beside me. At Sisterhood camp, we were supposed to be Isolated from the Pressures of Society in order to Improve Ourselves as Women. We weren't supposed to get phone calls. Especially not at midnight on a Tuesday, rousing you out of your creaky camp bed and through the woods to a room too bright and a phone that weighed heavily in your hand. Scarlett sighed. Something was up. "What about him?" I repeated. The camp director rolled her eyes this time, thinking, I was sure, that this was no emergency. "He's dead." Scarlett's voice was flat, even, as if she were reciting multiplication tables. I could hear clinking and splashing in the background. "Dead?" I said. The camp director looked up, suddenly concerned, and I turned away. "How?" "A motorcycle accident. This afternoon. He got hit by a car on Shortcrest." More splashing, and suddenly I realized she was washing dishes. Scarlett, always capable, would do housework during a nuclear holocaust. "He's dead," I repeated, and the room seemed very small suddenly, cramped, and as the camp director put her arm around me I shook her off, stepping away. I pictured Scarlett at the sink in cutoffs and a T–shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, phone cocked between her ear and shoulder. "Oh, my God." "I know," Scarlett said, and there was a great gurgling noise as water whooshed down her sink. She wasn't crying. "I know." We sat there on the line for what seemed like the longest time, the buzzing in the background the only sound. I wanted to crawl through the phone
