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Whitley Johnson's dream summer with her divorce dad has turned into a nightmare. She's just met his new fiancee and her kids. The fiancee's son? Whitley's one-night stand from graduation night. Just freakin' great.
Worse, she totally doesn't fit in with her dad's perfect new country-club family. So Whitley acts out. She parties. Hard. So hard she doesn't even notice the good things right under her nose: a sweet little future stepsister who is just about the only person she's ...
Whitley Johnson's dream summer with her divorce dad has turned into a nightmare. She's just met his new fiancee and her kids. The fiancee's son? Whitley's one-night stand from graduation night. Just freakin' great.
Worse, she totally doesn't fit in with her dad's perfect new country-club family. So Whitley acts out. She parties. Hard. So hard she doesn't even notice the good things right under her nose: a sweet little future stepsister who is just about the only person she's ever liked, a best friend (even though Whitley swears she doesn't "do" friends), and a smoking-hot guy who isn't her stepbrother...at least, not yet. It will take all three of them to help Whitley get through her anger and begin to put the pieces of her family together.
Filled with authenticity and raw emotion, Whitley is Kody Keplinger's most compelling character to date: a cynical Holden Caulfield-esque girl you will wholly care about.
Hangovers are a bitch.
I’ve known this for years, since I was, like, fourteen and went to my first kegger, but the headache I woke up with the morning after graduation was the worst I’d ever experienced. And that says a lot. I mean, it was throbbing. I felt like someone had beaten me over the head with a freaking baseball bat. And God only knew, maybe someone had. I’d been so wasted that night I probably wouldn’t have cared. I may have even found it funny at the time. Everything was funny after a few shots of tequila.
I groaned and pulled the blanket over my face, shielding my eyes from the sunlight that filtered through the window over my head. Why did it have to be so goddamn bright?
“Don’t be dramatic. I’m not that ugly,” a deep, groggy voice murmured beside me.
Suddenly, I felt nauseous for reasons that had nothing to do with the amount of alcohol in my system.
I clenched my eyes shut, trying to remember what the hell I’d done last night. I’d danced with some people, played Quarters for a while, taken a few shots… more than a few shots. But, hey, it was a graduation party. Getting smashed was pretty much a requirement. I forced myself to think past the alcohol buzz and the thudding bass of the stereo, trying to remember where I’d been when I finally passed out.
And there it was.
At some point, after getting entirely shitfaced, I’d made out with some guy I didn’t know—I graduated with almost a thousand kids, so I partied with a lot of strangers that night—and then I dragged him into one of the house’s bedrooms. But everything after that was a blur. One thing I was sure of, though. I’d definitely had sex with him.
Goddamn it. Had I really been that drunk?
I opened my eyes and rolled onto my side. At this point, I just hoped he was cute. And he was… or he would have been if he hadn’t looked so crappy. His brown eyes, staring at me from a few inches away, had deep lines under them, and his dark hair was a mess. Or maybe that was just the way he wore it. That was the style lately, for some reason.
Then again, I was sure I didn’t look too hot at that moment, either. My hair, which had been totally awesome for graduation, was probably ratty from yesterday’s hairspray, and I was sure my eyes were bloodshot and my makeup must have been runny and gross.
Like I said, hangovers are a bitch.
“Hi,” the guy mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “Did you sleep okay?”
As if this whole situation weren’t awkward enough, he was going to talk to me. I wished he’d just pretend to be asleep so I could sneak out in peace.
I sighed and pushed the blankets off me. The sunlight was killing my eyes. I had to squint as I stumbled around the room, gathering my clothes from the floor. I nearly fell over at least twice before I was dressed. Judging by the way everything was scattered, we’d had a pretty crazy night.
Good for me, I guess.
“Hey, um…” Christ, I couldn’t even remember the dude’s name. Had he ever told it to me? I cleared my throat and started again. “Do you think anyone will catch me if I go through the front door, or should I climb out the window? How are you leaving?”
“I’m not. This is my house.”
So I’d screwed the host. I hadn’t seen that one coming. The address was scribbled on every senior’s hand yesterday, and I’d never thought to ask who lived in the place. A party was a party. Didn’t matter who threw it.
“Or it used to be… Anyway, you won’t get caught,” he added, pushing himself up on the pillows. “Mom’s not here. She and my sister had to leave town before graduation to meet the movers. That’s why I offered to have the party here. Partly for graduation, and partly as a going-away celebration.”
“Okay, okay.” I just needed a yes or no, not his whole life story. I grabbed my purse off the dresser. “So I’ll use the front door. No big deal.”
“Hey. Hold on a sec.” He sat up straight, letting the covers fall away from his bare chest.
Yeah. He was definitely hot. Good body. I vaguely remembered telling him that, too. A tiny memory trickled into my consciousness: me giggling, poking him in the chest just after I’d pulled his shirt over his head. “Nice muscles you’ve got there, stud.” He’d laughed and kissed me. He’d been a good kisser.
That was the most I could recall at the moment, though.
“Can I get your number?” he asked, running a hand through his sloppy brown hair. “So I can, you know, give you a call sometime.”
Oh, God, was he serious?
Not that I had a whole lot of experience with one-night stands—I didn’t, really; I mean, I could count the number of boys I’d slept with on one hand. But I had fooled around with a lot of guys while drunk, and most of them had the good sense not to try to keep in touch after. It was better for both of us if we just went on with our lives, pretending like the whole thing had never happened.
Apparently this dude—why couldn’t I remember his name?—didn’t feel the same way.
“Listen,” I said, looking away from him as I pulled out the condom wrapper that had managed to get tangled inside my shirt. “We just graduated, and after this summer we’re off to college. So what’s the point of staying in contact, really?” Ugh. Poor guy. I couldn’t even let him down easy. This hangover was so bad. I met his eyes again, knowing I needed to get this over with so I could get out of there. “I think we should leave things where they are and, you know, never ever see each other again.”
“So… you don’t want to give me your number?”
“Not really. No.”
He blew air out of his mouth in a rush. “Ouch. That’s kind of harsh.”
Maybe, but he was better off. It wasn’t as if someone like me would have made a good girlfriend anyway. I was just some drunken hookup. That’s all I’d ever been.
“Look, you’re moving, right? I’m sure tons of girls in your new town will totally go for the slouchy pretty-boy thing you’ve got going on. You won’t even remember last night in a week…. I barely remember already.” I shrugged and slung my purse over my shoulder, one hand against the wall to keep me stable. “So, nice party. I had a good time. I, um, won’t see you around.”
“Whitley?” he called after me.
But I was already out of the bedroom and weaving unsteadily down the hall. I needed to get out of there. Fast. Not only was I ready to get away from Mr. Clingy, but I also really had to get home. Mom was waiting for me, and I had a shitload of packing to do before Dad showed up in his SUV the next day.
I reached the end of the hall and found the living room completely trashed. Beer cans and half-empty bags of chips had been tossed all over the floor. A recliner and an end table, the only pieces of furniture (I guess the rest had already been sent to his new place), were overturned. A couple stragglers remained passed out on the floor. I felt a little bad for whatshisname. He had a real mess to clean up. I was so glad not to be him.
That’s what he got for volunteering to host a graduation bash, though.
I tripped over the garbage on my way to the front door, wincing when the light hit my eyes. My head hurt like hell, but at least I wasn’t puking. After four years of going to high school keggers—and crashing the occasional frat party—I’d learned to hold my alcohol pretty well. Better than a lot of girls my age, anyway. Most of the girls I saw at parties were kissing the toilet after a couple bottles of Smirnoff Ice, then had to be carried out by their football player boyfriends. Babies.
With a sigh, I dug my cell phone out of my purse and dialed the number to the cab company. I seriously hoped I wouldn’t get a chatty driver. If he said more than five words to me, I wasn’t going to tip.
Mom was sitting at the kitchen table when I got home, eating frozen waffles in her housecoat and watching Good Morning America. She looked up when I walked through the door, the syrup bottle in her hand.
“Hey, Whitley,” she said. “How was the rest of your night?”
“Good,” I mumbled, going straight for the fridge. My mouth was unbelievably dry. “Sorry I didn’t call.”
“Oh, that’s fine. I figured you were staying over at Nola’s.”
I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade, not bothering to inform my mother that Nola and I hadn’t spoken since ninth grade. For a second, I wondered whether she’d notice if I did a line of coke on the table right in front of her. I doubted it.
“Trace sent you something,” she said as I sat down in the chair beside her, clutching some Saltines for good measure and positioning myself to see the TV, which was on the counter across from us. She doused her waffles in syrup and pushed the bottle to the side. “I put it on your bed.”
We sat in silence for a long moment before Mom finally asked, “So, are you excited about graduating?”
She kept staring at the TV, watching as the national weather guy moved on from our part of the country and pointed at Florida, informing us that it was sunny—no shit, Sherlock. I got the feeling Mom didn’t really give a damn about the answer. It was just one of those questions you ask because it makes you a crappy parent if you don’t.
“Not really,” I said, twisting the cap on the Gatorade and taking a big gulp. “Graduating isn’t a big deal. It’ll be nice to start college, though. Dad loved UK. Hopefully he can help me pick a goddamn major.”
“Language, Whitley,” she warned. “And, honey, be careful about taking your father’s advice on this stuff. He can’t even make smart life choices for himself, let alone help you make yours.”
I scowled at her before taking another drink. Six years after the divorce, and she still slammed Dad at every opportunity. You’d think she’d be over it by now.
“I don’t see anything wrong with how Dad lives,” I told her.
“Please.” She laughed bitterly. “In that trashy condo? Jumping from girlfriend to girlfriend? Forty-eight years old and still hasn’t grown up at all. He can’t even make enough time to see his own daughter more than once a year.”
That’s your fault, I thought. I stood up and tossed my Gatorade bottle in the trash, mumbling, “I’m going to lie down. Headache.”
“All right, honey.” Mom speared a bite of waffle with her fork. “I hope you get to feeling better. And don’t forget to pack. Your father will be here to pick you up at noon tomorrow…. But you know how punctual he is.” I didn’t listen closely to the rest of her tirade.
I was halfway inside my bedroom before she finally shut up. When it came to Dad, my mother never knew when to just leave it alone. Everything about him annoyed her now: the way he dressed, the way he drove; she even said that the sound of his laugh made her cringe. She couldn’t see how alike my father and I were, totally oblivious to the fact that some of the traits she loathed in him were part of me, too.
The worst part, though, was that Dad never said a bad word about her. She didn’t know it, or she was too bitter to see, but Dad still cared about her feelings. That was the reason he’d said no when I’d asked to live with him four years ago—he said it would break Mom’s heart if I moved out.
I never told Mom I’d asked Dad that. But over the years that followed, I became more and more certain that he was wrong. She wouldn’t have even noticed if I left. She could bitch to a houseplant just as well as she could to me.
With my head hurting even worse, I yanked the curtains closed to block out any trace of sunlight and fell onto my bed, burying my face in the pillow with a groan.
I felt something stiff and crinkly under my stomach and sighed. The room had finally stopped spinning now that I was lying down, and sitting up seemed like a bad idea. Moving as little as possible, I reached beneath me and pulled out the offending object, holding it up to examine it. It was the thing Trace had sent me. A blue envelope with my name written across it with a pretty pink gel pen. Emily’s doing, for sure. My brother’s penmanship was shit.
With slow, unsteady movements, I opened the envelope and pulled out the card inside. YOU’VE COME A LONG WAY, the cover said. What a cliché. Inside, though, my brother had crossed out all the cheesy poem crap and written his own message. Of course, since Trace wrote it himself in his sloppy boy handwriting, it took me a few minutes to decipher.
so proud of you. so is emily. we wish we could have been there, but here’s a fat check to make up for it but dont go spending it all on booze. call you soon.
Love, the best big brother ever
and Emily and Marie, too
I smiled. It was a mark of how much I loved my big brother that I found his lack of punctuation and proper grammar endearing.
Emily and Trace had been married for about two years. They met when Trace got his job as the assistant to some talent agent out in Los Angeles. Emily was an actress—which means she was a waitress—who was originally sleeping with Trace’s boss, trying to get parts. But then she met Trace, and he claims it was love at first sight.
Normally, if someone told me that, I’d gag, but I bought Trace’s story. After they met, Emily dumped agent-man (she wasn’t getting any gigs anyway) and started dating my brother. I figured that would be a conflict of interest with Trace’s job or something, but I guess that kind of crazy stuff happens all the time in Hollywood because he was still working for the guy. He even got promoted after that. And Emily had Marie, their daughter, just last month.
That was why Trace hadn’t made it to my graduation. Marie was too little to fly, and Trace didn’t want to leave Emily at home with the baby by herself.
I didn’t blame him. He had a lot going on. And picking up and flying all the way out here for just one night would have been stupid. I mean, Dad hadn’t even been able to make it because of work, and he lived within driving distance. It was no big deal. The ceremony was dumb anyway.
But it would have been nice to see Trace.
Next year, I thought, putting away the card and check he’d sent before curling up on my side and closing my eyes to fight off the headache. Dad and I will fly out to California together during his vacation. No work, no Mom driving us crazy. It’ll be great. Next year…
And with that thought, I drifted off to sleep.
After the divorce, my mother insisted on moving as far from Dad as possible. I think she was shooting for California or Hawaii or something, but instead we wound up only two hundred and fifty miles away, just far enough so our antenna didn’t pick up Channel 34.
My dad was this hotshot news anchor. He was, like, the most popular television personality in the tristate area or something. Channel 34 had the lowest ratings of all the local networks before they hired Greg Johnson to do the morning news. And everyone fell in love with him. Women wanted to date him, and men wanted to go fishing with him. Suddenly, Channel 34 was the most popular station in the area.
So, naturally, my mother wanted to move to a place where no one had ever heard of my dad. Even if that meant I was living far away from him, too.
At twelve, I was already old enough to realize how selfish my mother was being.
She moved us to a city four and a half hours from Dad—all the way to fucking Indiana—yet she had the nerve to bitch about how he didn’t spend enough time with me. For God’s sake, it wasn’t his fault that she wasn’t mature enough to live in the same state as her ex or that he had a job that took up a lot of his time, even weekends. Because of her, any traditional custody agreement just wasn’t feasible. So Dad and I worked out a more convenient system.
I’d spent every summer for the last six years at my dad’s condo. He lived only a few miles from Kentucky Lake, so I wasted most of the hot days stretched out on a towel, getting a tan on the beach. At night, Dad would fire up the grill, and last year he’d even mixed us a few drinks, making me promise Mom wouldn’t find out. Sometimes his girlfriend—whoever she was that month—would come over, but he’d never let her stay long. The summer was our time. Our time to make up for the months spent apart.
And this was the last summer before college. I imagined sitting on the beach with Dad, talking about his days at University of Kentucky—where I’d be starting in September—him telling me the crazy stories from his fraternity days while we drank together. Maybe he’d even help me figure out what to major in when I got to UK. Mom said I should focus on business, but Dad knew me better than she did. That could be our project for the summer, deciding what I should do for the rest of my life.
When my dad pulled up the following afternoon, I didn’t even wait for him to get out of the car before running off the front porch to meet him. I tossed my duffel bag into the back of his SUV, eager to hit the road and get our summer started. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, talking to somebody on his cell phone and pretending he didn’t notice Mom watching him from the front window of the house.
She’d never come outside when Dad was here. She’d swear she wanted nothing to do with him, but I always saw her watching.
“Ready to go, munchkin?” Dad asked, shutting his cell phone and plugging it into the car charger.
“Uh-huh.” I slammed the SUV’s door.
“Did you tell your mom good-bye?”
“Yeah,” I muttered, climbing into the front seat. “Let’s just get out of here.”
“First put on your seat belt.”
“Fine.” I sighed, pulling the belt across me.
“Don’t act so casual about it.” He revved the engine. “We just aired a special report over at the station about the death rate for car accidents, and it’s unreal the difference that little lap belt will make.”
Dad chuckled. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, munchkin,” he said, already backing out of my driveway.
I turned, thinking I might at least wave good-bye to Mom, but she wasn’t at the window anymore. The blinds were shut. I wondered if she’d gone back to bed, if she’d stay there for days the way she did for the first couple years after the divorce.
The sick part was that she’s the one who left Dad. I think part of her assumed he’d chase after her or beg her not to go. But he didn’t. After two months of separation, he sent her divorce papers, already signed. I didn’t blame him. They fought all the time about stupid stuff. I was sure that was why Trace moved across the country after graduation—to get away from the drama. I was probably the only twelve-year-old to ever be relieved that her parents were getting divorced.
I was less relieved, however, when I realized this meant I had to live with my mom full-time. The first two years were the worst. When she wasn’t depressed, she was angry. She was still angry now.
“Sorry I couldn’t make it to your graduation,” Dad was saying as we swerved through lunch-hour traffic. “I wanted to be there, but with my work schedule, it just wasn’t possible.”
“It’s cool,” I said, watching as the tall buildings of the city zoomed past the windows. “Graduation’s nothing special anyway. It’s actually really boring. But Mom recorded the ceremony on my digital camera so I could send it to Trace. If you want, I can load the file onto your computer and show you the footage once we get to the condo.”
“Right… about the condo, munchkin… I have some news.”
“What?” I turned to look at him, a little nervous as I remembered the beloved condo with its bright retro paintings and squeaky floorboards.
“It’s really not a big deal,” he said. “Nothing to get worked up about.”
“Ugh. You don’t have ants again, do you? I keep saying that you need to get a real exterminator in there instead of trying to do everything yourself.”
“No, it’s not ants,” he said. “And I don’t think we’ll have to worry about those pests again because… well, I moved.”
“Moved?” I repeated. “You mean, like, to a new house?”
“That’s what I mean.”
I stared at him, shocked. “But… you loved that condo. Why would you move? Did you want a place closer to the lake or something?”
“No, it wasn’t about the beach.”
“Then why give up the condo?” I asked. “If you’re not going closer to the lake, there’s no reason to live in Millerton.”
“Well, I agree. But that’s just it. I’m not living in Millerton.”
“What? Really? But you’ve always lived in Millerton. You grew up there—I grew up there. Why would you leave?”
“You’ll see when we get to Hamilton. You’ll love it there, munchkin,” he assured me. “It’s a nice little neighborhood. Great surroundings. Wonderful people. You’ll love spending your summer there, I promise. It’s even better than Millerton.”
Hamilton was a hellhole.
I discovered this three and a half hours later, after listening to every song on my iPod multiple times. I’d spent the drive giving Dad the silent treatment, annoyed that he hadn’t warned me about this move. He’d always had a bad habit of springing things on me, like new girlfriends (those never lasted long enough to matter, though) or remodeling the condo. But never anything as drastic as moving to a new town.
A new, crappy town.
I was just thinking that I needed to get on iTunes to download some music when Dad’s SUV rumbled past the WELCOME TO HAMILTON! sign. As soon as I saw that exclamation mark, I knew I was doomed. It only got worse as we drove farther into town.
A population of less than a thousand.
And definitely, definitely no beach. In fact, Dad’s new house was on the opposite side of Channel 34’s viewing area, which put us more than a hundred miles from the lake.
“Great,” I muttered, watching out the window as white picket fence after white picket fence zoomed past. “So much for spending the summer in a bikini.”
“Hey, don’t get upset just yet, munchkin.” He reached over to pat me on the knee.
Millerton had been twice the size of this place. It wasn’t really a city, but there was a mall, at least, and all the houses didn’t look exactly alike. There had been some diversity, some color. There were skate parks and weekend mini-golf places. And sometimes Dad took me to the go-kart track in the summer.
Unless they were hidden in the middle of a cornfield that separated the tiny neighborhoods, I doubted Hamilton had any of those things.
As we drove through the town, I spotted a library, a grocery store, a bank, and absolutely nothing fun to do.
“I’m going to be so pale when I start college,” I whined.
“You’ll still get a tan. We already have a pool.”
“We?” I repeated. “Who’s we? You mean you and me?”
“Actually…” Dad cleared his throat. “That’s the second part of the surprise.”
We pulled into a driveway. The house we faced was pretty big, with a perfect, well-kept yard and neat little shutters on the windows. The part that caught my attention, though, was the woman standing on the front porch. She was tall, blond, and wearing super-high high heels.
“Dad,” I said. “Who is that?”
He cut the engine and pushed open his door. “Sylvia!” he called out in his deep, booming voice. “Honey, I’m home!”
“Honey?” I frowned and climbed out of the SUV.
The woman was already jogging down the sidewalk, which I had to admit was impressive in those heels. Instead of running toward my father, she steered in the other direction and landed right next to me, reaching out and wrapping her arms around me in a tight hug before I could stop her. Thank God it was a quick one. When she stepped back, she was smiling at me like some kind of lunatic.
“Oh, Whitley,” she said with a sigh, brushing blond hair out of her heart-shaped face. “It is so nice to finally meet you. You are just so, so beautiful. Your dad’s pictures don’t do you justice at all.”
“Uh, thanks…” I glanced over at Dad, who was making his way around the SUV, coming toward us. Then I looked back at this crazy woman. “Sorry, but who the hell are you?”
She looked taken aback for a minute before my father sidled up beside her, slipping his long arm around her shoulders. “This is Sylvia. My fiancée.”
Once we were inside, I got the full story.
Sylvia Caulfield was a lawyer from Indiana. She and Dad had met last September when Dad was doing a story on Land Between the Lakes, a national recreation area near his condo, and Sylvia was there, visiting the park with a friend from college. Dad asked her for an interview about her experience at the park, and she asked for his phone number. Not long after that, they were crazy in love.
The story made me nauseous.
“We mostly exchanged e-mails and phone calls for a few months,” Sylvia explained as she poured herself a mug of coffee in the house’s cheerful kitchen. The pastel blues and greens were in direct contrast to my mood—four hours into vacation and already everything was ruined, and I had the strong urge to strangle my father and his bride-to-be.
“You sure you don’t want a cup of coffee, Whitley?”
I shook my head. She had already offered me one, but I’d refused. I hated coffee with a passion. The smell alone was horrible.
“Well, anyway… Neither of us expected a long-distance relationship to work out. Especially me, I think. I hadn’t dated since my first husband passed away from a heart attack a few years ago. This was so new to me. I was sure we’d break up before Christmas.”
“Did you really think I’d let you get away that easy?” Dad asked, kissing her on the cheek. “I’m not that stupid.”
She blushed and giggled.
I couldn’t believe I was seeing this. It was like a bad made-for-TV movie. Poor little widow meets successful local celebrity. Then it’s all flowers and sunshine in suburbia. Ew.
And it was so unlike Dad. After he and Mom split, my father had turned into a real flirt, which was, you know, pretty normal for a semifamous bachelor. Every summer when I came to visit he had a new twentysomething bombshell following him like a lost puppy. They always had names like Heather or Nikki, and they spent most of their time in way-too-revealing bikinis, lying on the beach and reading Vogue.
Sylvia wasn’t one of those girls, though. In fact, the only thing she had in common with any of them was her hair color, but my father had always preferred blonds. Other than that, she was a total one-eighty from the usual bimbos. For one, she had a real job, whereas all the others had been waitresses or retail clerks. And she was close to his age, too. So not his type.
What kind of spell did this chick have him under?
And how the hell could he not tell me about her?
“But we made it past Christmas,” she said, sitting across from me at the kitchen table. I wrinkled my nose as the smell from her mug wafted my way. “Finally, we realized we just couldn’t stand being apart for so long. Because, of course, your dad couldn’t travel to see me with his work, and I don’t get out-of-state cases that often.”
“So I asked her to move in with me,” Dad said.
“And I said no.” Sylvia laughed. “I just couldn’t live in that condo.”
I scowled. I hated the way she said it. That condo. Like it was a bad place. Didn’t she know that that condo had been a home to me? More of a home than Mom’s house in Indiana ever had been.
“So we negotiated,” Dad continued, either not seeing or choosing to ignore the glare I was giving them both. “I realized I wanted to marry her, but Sylvia wanted to live in a family community. She’d been in the city for too long, and she was right—that condo was just too young for me. It was a bachelor pad, and I wanted a real home. Plus, I was driving more than an hour to get to the station every morning. With that kind of trip twice a day, the money I was paying for gas was really ridiculous.”
“And my sister lives here in Hamilton.” Sylvia took a sip of her coffee, beaming at me over the top of the mug.
“We both knew that this was the perfect place for us. We got engaged last month, and we finally moved everything in last night.”
I looked at Dad, silently asking for a better explanation. Why? Why had he let this woman convince him to move out of the condo and into this place? Who was she to make him change? I kept hoping he’d burst out laughing and shout, Got you! You really fell for it, munchkin. But he didn’t, and that pissed me off even more.
“I got an Illinois license to practice law, moved to a new firm—one closer—and now your dad is closer to his work, too,” Sylvia was saying. “It’s only thirty minutes to the station from here. And we both just love this little town. It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“Sure,” I muttered.
I’d been there for twenty minutes and already hated Hamilton. I never thought I’d say this, but I would have rather been back in Indiana. The city would have been better than this place. Dealing with Mom would have been better than dealing with this little surprise.
I couldn’t believe Sylvia had talked Dad into moving here. Hamilton so wasn’t his style. Dad liked bizarre pink flamingos and horseshoe pits in his yard. Not picket fences and cliché little gardens. At the condo, he had these crazy retro paintings and posters in trippy colors hanging from the walls. I think there was even a Velvet Elvis in his bedroom. But there was nothing like that in this house. Floral wallpaper. Watercolor art. Nothing with real personality. It was all generic and uniform.
I wanted to go back to the condo. Back home.
Sylvia got to her feet as the sound of the front door opening caught all of our attention. “That must be the kids,” she said, hurrying into the living room.
I turned to Dad, stunned. “Kids?”
“Oh, yeah,” Dad said, moving to sit in the chair next to mine. “Sylvia has two children.”
I didn’t say anything. I was shaking. Pissed, confused, overwhelmed. Mostly pissed, though. How dare this woman barge into our lives and change everything. How dare Dad let her! How could he just let this woman talk him into moving? How could he do it and not tell me?
“You okay, munchkin?” He brushed my long chestnut hair out of my face.
“It’s kind of a lot to take in, Dad.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. But I really think you’ll love them. The kids are great, and they’re teenagers like you. And Sylvia’s wonderful, isn’t she?”
I didn’t answer.
“Come on,” he said, standing up and pulling me to my feet beside him. “The kids just got back from the grocery store, and I know they’re dying to meet you.”
So they knew about me? I wasn’t warned about any of this, but Sylvia’s little brats were totally prepared? I knew Dad wasn’t much of a phone talker, but he couldn’t even spare a few minutes to say, “Oh, hey, I’m getting married and moving to Illinois!”
I hadn’t even been given a chance to say good-bye to the condo. To the chilly wood floor I used to sprawl across on hot days. To the shower curtain decorated with multicolored fish and one random mermaid. To the goddamn Velvet Elvis. It was like I had no part of it. Like it had never been mine.
Well, this house wasn’t mine, either. Maybe it was home to Sylvia and her spawn and even Dad—but it would never be home to me.
Before Dad and I could leave the kitchen, Sylvia’s voice came through the dining room, her heels clicking across the tile as she headed toward the archway.
“Thanks for doing the grocery shopping,” she was saying. “Greg and Whitley arrived a few minutes ago. Come in here and I’ll introduce you guys.” She smiled at me when she entered the kitchen, a plastic shopping bag dangling from her hand. “Nathan and Bailey are excited to meet you,” she told me.
A second later a short blond girl appeared in the doorway, followed closely by her dark-haired older brother. They both stepped into the kitchen, letting the bright sunlight from the screen door fall across their faces.
This could not be happening.
I knew the boy in front of me. But the last time I’d seen him he’d been shirtless, hungover, and half-asleep. It was the boy who’d thrown the graduation party. The boy I’d run out on after getting drunk enough to go all the way with him.
I had a flash of his lips on my neck, his slurred voice asking, “Is this okay?” My cheeks burned.
“You,” he said, his brown eyes wide.
“Do you two know each other?” Dad asked.
“No,” I said immediately.
“We went to the same high school,” the boy answered.
Sylvia seemed ecstatic about this. “Oh, you went to Fairmont, too?” she asked, moving her hand to my shoulder. She was very touchy. “Greg, you never told me that.”
Beside me, Dad looked sheepish. “I thought the school was called Fairview…. Shows how good my memory is.”
“Oh, Whitley, if I’d known you two lived that close to each other, I would have asked your father to pick you kids up at the same time instead of letting Nathan take a bus last night.”
Nathan. So that was his name.
“I can’t believe you two went to school together.” Sylvia laughed. “What are the odds?”
“Small world,” I growled.
“Very,” Nathan said. He was smiling now, but I could tell it was forced. At least I wasn’t the only one uncomfortable here. Stiffly, he extended his hand to me. “Nice to finally meet you, Whit.”
“Whitley,” I corrected, reluctantly taking his hand and shaking it for just a second before letting go.
“And this is my daughter,” Sylvia said. She gestured to the blond girl—thank God, I didn’t know this one—who stepped forward. “Whitley, this is Bailey. She’s thirteen, getting ready to start high school in the fall. She’s very excited to have a girl around to hang with.”
“Mom!” Bailey snapped, cheeks red.
“What?” Sylvia asked. “You are, aren’t you?”
Bailey turned to me, clearly embarrassed, and said, “Hi, Whitley. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Yeah… you, too.”
“Isn’t this great, munchkin?” Dad said, stepping up beside Sylvia and putting his arm around her. “You kids will have a wonderful time together. Won’t this be a fun summer?”
Fun? Fun was not the word I would have chosen. Unbearable, awkward, torturous… Anything but fun.
This was a nightmare.
I was supposed to be at the condo, wasting time on the beach, just Dad and me, figuring out college and my life and spending time together. Instead, I was in a new house with new people—including a future stepbrother who’d seen me naked.
“Well.” I sighed, facing my father again. “It will definitely be interesting. That’s for sure.”
Sylvia asked Nathan to show me to my new bedroom. Talk about irony.
“This is it,” he said, pushing open the second door on the left when we reached the top of the stairs. “Right across the hall from mine.”
“Great,” I muttered, stepping into the room with my arms folded tightly across my chest. It wasn’t small, but it wasn’t very big, either. The walls were painted a boring shade of white, and they didn’t even have any paintings or pictures hanging on them, which gave the place an eerie psych-ward feel.
My gaze moved to the queen-size bed in the middle of the room. It wasn’t the bed I’d slept in at Dad’s condo, the bed I’d called mine for six years. This one was larger, with an oak frame and way too many pillows. The comforter was a neutral shade of beige, matching easily with the carpet and the curtains that hung around the only window. It was perfect and clean and pretty, just like everything else in my dad’s new life.
And I hated it.
The thing that stung—the thing that was most obvious to me—was that this room was meant to be a guest room. It wasn’t mine.
My bedroom at Dad’s condo hadn’t been fancy or anything. The old bed creaked, and the carpet really needed to be redone. A few photos of Dad and me were the only things that had decorated the walls (aside from one of his crazy bright paintings); I’d never taken the time to put up posters. But the room had been mine. No one slept there but me. Even during the school year, I knew Dad hadn’t used my room for visitors. He had a spare room for that. My room had belonged to me and only me.
This room didn’t. It never would.
“Did you know?” I demanded, turning to face Nathan. The anger over everything I’d learned in the past hour was finally boiling over. “The other night, did you know we were…?”
He sighed and calmly shut the bedroom door. “No. I mean—yes, I knew Greg had a daughter, but I never asked what her name was. I had no idea it was you.”
“Right.” I walked over to the window and stared down into the backyard, noting the fancy-looking patio strewn with lawn chairs and a table with an umbrella in the middle. I could also see the big-ass inground pool. The water was crystal blue, and a diving board stood at the far end. Just the kind of thing you’d see on TV. “This sucks.”
He didn’t say anything. He was so calm, taking this so well. I kind of wanted to punch him, to make him yell the way I wanted to yell. Couldn’t he see how fucked up this was?
I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fingers around the windowsill. My summer wasn’t supposed to start like this.
“I won’t tell them,” he said, breaking the long silence. “You don’t have to worry about your dad finding out.”
“I don’t really give a shit what you tell them.” I opened my eyes and turned away from the window, walking over to unzip my duffel bag.
Okay, that wasn’t true. I did care. I didn’t want Dad to know about the things I’d done. With Nathan or anyone else. No matter how angry I was at him, I still wanted him to see me as his little girl.
But I admit, I would have loved to see Sylvia’s face when she found out a member of her perfect little family had thrown a wild party and slept with a girl he barely knew. She’d be scandalized.
“Either way, you don’t have to worry about it. Obviously I’d be in trouble, too. So as far as I’m concerned, that party never happened.”
“Awesome. Are you done now?” I asked.
Our eyes met then, and he wasn’t smiling anymore. Not even that fake cover-up smile. He took a slow, deep breath before saying, “Sorry. I’ll let you unpack.”
“How are you so calm about this?” I cried as he walked toward the door.
Nathan didn’t look at me. He kept one hand on the knob, but hesitated before turning it. “We have to spend two and a half months living under the same roof. I think we should both just forget what happened the other night and start from scratch. So, like I said, that party never happened.” He opened the door. “Good luck getting settled in. I’ll be across the hall if you need anything.”
And he walked away.
I closed and locked the door behind him. Forget it ever happened? He made that sound so easy. I knew I’d told him he’d forget about me in no time, but I hadn’t expected to be living across the hall. I hated him for making it sound so simple.
With a sigh, I walked back over to my open duffel bag and stared down at my clothes, thrown haphazardly into the bottom. I never folded things. I didn’t see the point; I’d just wear them and they’d get all crumpled again anyway. Folding T-shirts was a ridiculous waste of energy.
I grabbed an armful of clothes and went to put them away, but I stopped in the middle of the room. I stared at the double doors of the closet, which I knew must be humongous. It was probably full of linens, I realized. There was probably an old ironing board inside, or maybe a collapsible treadmill. It wasn’t my closet. It wasn’t meant for my crap.
So I put the clothes back in my bag. I wasn’t about to unpack. Not here. This wasn’t home.
I was thinking of digging out the bottle of Margaritaville Gold at the bottom of my duffel. I’d brought it for the nights when Dad and I mixed drinks together. He preferred to use rum, which I wasn’t a fan of, so I’d packed my own tequila this summer. It looked like I was going to need it sooner than I thought, though.
I was about to reach into my bag and find it when someone knocked on the door.
“Um… Can I come in?”
I frowned and walked across the room. After flipping the lock, I pulled the door open a crack and looked out into the hall. Bailey was standing there, running her fingers through her hair. Now that I got a decent look at her, I realized just how small this girl was. She hadn’t even hit five feet yet, and she looked like she might weigh ninety pounds. If Sylvia hadn’t mentioned that she was about to start high school, I would have guessed the kid was ten years old.
“Is it okay if I, um, come in?”
“Uh, sure,” I said, pulling the door open and stepping aside.
“Thanks.” She walked into the room, barely looking around as she moved to plop down on the bed. She glanced at my duffel bag. “You unpacking?”
“No,” I said. Before she could ask why, I added, “Do you need something?”
“Oh. No, not really,” she answered, shaking her head. “Sorry. I can leave if I’m bothering you. I just thought I’d help you unpack or something.”
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I mean, you seem… like, really surprised by all this.”
“That’s because I am,” I said, pushing the door closed again.
“Really? Your dad didn’t tell you about us?”
“You’d have to ask him that.”
“Wow… I’m sorry. That kind of sucks.” She paused for a moment, then added, “I hope you’ll still have fun here, though. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. We can, like, hang out. I’ve never had a sister before.”
This will not make us sisters, I thought. I wanted to scream it at her. It took everything I had to hold it back.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she was saying, unaware of my fuming. “Nathan’s okay. We don’t fight that much. Not like my friends do with their brothers. He drives me places and takes me to movies. He’s all right, but I’ve always wanted a sister…. You probably think that’s stupid, don’t you?”
“Pretty much.” She looked suddenly hurt when I said this, and I felt kind of guilty, so I added, “I mean, I sort of get it. I have a big brother, too, but he moved out years ago, so I haven’t really been much of a sister in a while. I probably suck at it.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” she said. “I love your clothes. Those jeans are awesome. We could, like, hang out and go shopping if you want. I need some new clothes for high school, and, well, Mom said she’d take me, but… she has really bad taste. She always puts me in this old-woman-looking stuff. Stuff no one my age wears. I’d rather dress the way you do.”
I looked down at my green cotton tank top and low-slung Tommy Hilfiger jeans. “Thanks.” The girl deserved some credit. At least she knew good fashion when she saw it. If there was one thing I cared about, it was my wardrobe, and I had certainly mastered the “I don’t give a shit” look. Believe it or not, it took a lot of talent to pull off that style without looking sloppy.
“We should definitely go shopping,” she said again.
“Awesome,” she said. “My birthday is in August. I’ll have money after that. We could go to the mall in the next county over before you leave for college. That would be fun.”
“Maybe,” I repeated. I wasn’t committing myself to anything. But it was impossible to flat out reject this girl. I wasn’t a pushover or anything. Far from it. She just had those big puppy eyes that made you feel guilty, you know?
That’s why, when she asked, “Do you want me to go? So you can unpack and get settled in?” I shook my head and let her stay.
“So do you, like, have a boyfriend?” she asked, pulling her legs into a crisscross position on the bed. “Is he going to miss you while you’re here?”
“I don’t have one,” I told her. “And I don’t want one, either.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“Boys are a pain in the ass.”
Bailey laughed, like she thought I was kidding. “I’m allowed to date once I start high school. I’m going to try out for the cheerleading squad this summer. Boys like cheerleaders, right?”
“I guess,” I said, walking over to stare out the window. “I wouldn’t really know. I didn’t hang out with the cheerleaders much. We weren’t in the same crowd.”
“So what crowd were you in?”
I looked over at her, thinking of how to answer.
I remembered being thirteen and thinking that high school would be some great new adventure. I’d even dreamed of being a cheerleader, too. At the time, though, I’d been in the middle of an awkward growth spurt. I was all knees and elbows, and I could barely walk without tripping, let alone do a decent cartwheel.
By the time tryouts rolled around the next year, though, my ambitions had changed. I’d started partying and drinking and getting a reputation for being easy, which was funny, I guess, since I wasn’t even having sex when the rumors first started. The prissy little cheerleaders thought I was a wild-child slut, and I thought they were stupid bitches. So it just hadn’t worked out.
It was weird to think I’d been so much like Bailey once.
I cleared my throat, suddenly aware that she was still waiting on my answer. “Well, I was in the… the…”
“Bailey!” Sylvia’s voice called from downstairs. “Honey, come help me set the table for supper.”
“Coming!” Bailey yelled. She hopped off the bed and walked over to the door, looking back at me with that same happy smile. “We’ll hang out again later, okay?”
“Sure,” I mumbled.
“We eat dinner at six,” she added. “I’ll see you downstairs in a little while, Whitley.”
Excerpted from A Midsummer's Nightmare by Keplinger, Kody Copyright © 2012 by Keplinger, Kody. Excerpted by permission.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Posted June 25, 2012
This book is filled with love and hate that keeps you turning the pages and leaves you wanting more. "A Midsummers Nightmare" is possibly one of kody keplinger's best. I personally have read every single one of her books ,and this one is close to the top of my favorite list, hands down. It is a light and happy read that will make you laugh, cry,and everything in between. When i started reading it i was expecting it to be about a stereotypical teenage girl with Daddy issues, but once again kody proved me wrong. The charachters are so well developed and raw with emotion that you get sucked into the book and it almost feels like you are part of the story.
I strongly recommend this book. whether it be for a day at the beach or just sitting around the house trying to pass the time, Whitley's adventure will keep you turning pages until the very end.
6 out of 6 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 18, 2012
This book is actually the best book i've read all year long. PLEASE read this, you WONT regret it at all. I stayed up all night just reading this book and it had me laughing and crying and everything else . . . :)
3 out of 3 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 8, 2012
Posted August 12, 2012
A Midummer’s Nightmare is a story that actually played close to my heart. No, not the falling for my step brother part, but the divorce, and the new family, and the feeling of belonging nowhere. When my parents divorced, I did act out, albeit not to the extent of main character Whitley Johnson, but still…there was some teenage angst. This story brought about some emotions that I had buried deep down, which in itself made it a read that I simply could not put down.
So basically, Whitley is a party girl who has a good time but making out with random guys, drinking heavily, and repeating. She has just recently graduated from high school and the story opens up with the aftermath of the grad party. Oh yes, I’m sure we’ve all been there. Fun and hilarity I’m sure had ensued. At any rate, Whitley discovers that she has slept with some random hottie at the party. Not wanting any resemblance of a relationship, Whitley pretty much brushes him off.
As the product of a divorced family, Whitley has been accustomed to spending her summers with her father, and hopes to make this summer an unforgettable one in which she spends her last summer before college with her father. Little does she know, that her dad has other plans in mind. He has dropped the M bomb on Whitley. He’s getting married again in the fall, which he had failed to mention to Whitley. I mean, he didn’t even mention that he was serious about someone. It was this part of the story that kind of irked me. I know that families are different…I know life is busy…but how do you not mention that you are planning to marry someone to your own daughter? I mean, I would think that when discussions of things getting serious were laid out on the table, the “other half” would insist upon meeting the significant other’s fruit of their loins? Maybe that’s just me…
At any rate, the bomb has been dropped, and rather than give Whitley the opportunity to even let this information sink in, he takes her to their new home to meet the new family. Wowzaa! I mean, helloooo, awkward situation much! And speaking of awkward situations, it turns out that the son of Whitely’s fiancée, Sylvia, is the dude that Whitley hooked up with, Nathan. Talk about uncomfortable situations.
Whitley must now learn to deal with a new family, feelings that she may or may not have for Nathan, trying to find something that resembles a family, and a sudden reputation that has popped up as her being promiscuous.
Keplinger has created a cast of characters that are true to themselves and bursting with personality. You can’t help but get caught up in the drama surrounding A Midsummer’s Nightmare. My heart was totally reaching out to Whitley feeling the pain that she was going through, and the confusion with the situation that has been thrust upon her. We watch as she continues her downward spiral, trying to deal with her issues. I couldn’t help but smile with the interaction between Whitley and Nathan, and laugh outwardly with the antics and flamboyant personality of Harrison, whom I absolutely adored to no end!
Fans of contemporary reads will fall in love with A Midsummer’s Nightmare, and with the characters found within it’s pages.
2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted July 6, 2012
Literally been reading this since I got this from my mailbox yesterday afternoon. First I just have to say that this has totally cemented my love for Kody Keplinger's writing. The Duff is one of my absolute favorite books and A Midsummer's Nightmare goes one step further. Ok this title couldn't be more perfect for describing this story. Everything is going wrong for the MC, Whitley. We meet her when she wakes up with a stranger who she slept with the night before. Yes Whitley is a huge party girl who has been drinking and going to parties since she got to high school. Her summer starts off with a one night stand, which is something she doesn't do, and only gets worse when her dad picks her up the next day. Whitley lives full time with her mom in a whole other state. Her mom hates her dad with a passion even after 6 years being divorced. All that time has pretty much made her a zombie who pays no attention to Whitley unless she needs to vent her anger about her dad. So every summer for 6 years is the only time Whitley can spend time with her dad. They stay at his condo on Lake Michigan and just chill the whole time. This summer not only did he move into a house in the suburbs but he is also engaged. Not only that, her future stepbrother is the guy she slept with at the graduation party . One huge nightmare after the other for Whitley so i don't blame her one bit for acting out. I loved all the references to The Duff. No you don't have to read it to read A Midsummer's Nightmare but it was exciting to see connections with these two books. We finally and officially meet Harrison who quickly turns into Whitley's best friend. We only knew his name from The Duff so it was great to get to know him. Even Wes and Bianca are in a scene which was pretty funny. What I loved most is nothing overshadowed the issues that Whitley was dealing with. She lives with her psycho mom, her dad is paying more attention to his new family, and her brother lives across the country and has a family of his own. Whitley goes through a lot of changes in one summer and I was very proud of her. This was a very emotional read and I literally felt everything she did. Overall A Midsummer's Nightmare completely blew me away and I highly recommend reading it.
1 out of 1 people found this review helpful.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted October 5, 2013
To start off I give Kody Keplinger 5 stars for simply having the courage to write a story like this. It is my first book I've read by her and I know that it can be a truly touchy subject to write about, but I think more people need to be aware of what their children are doing. It's happens constantly.
Whitley is going to be staying with her dad for the summer after graduating high school like she has every summer since her parents divorced. Her mom still is hung up on her dad, and really doesn't pay much attention to what Whit does. Since she was 14, she's been partying, drinking, and not caring about the outcomes. Now she is a summer away from going to University of Kentucky and she can't wait. In this book Whitley complains alot but it wasn't aggravating. her complaints were justifiable. Her dad has been a bachelor and her friend not her father for a long time, now he is getting married and has a new family. The problem he doesn't tell Whit until she is at his house.
Here she meets her new family and comes face to face with the guy she had a one night stand with after getting drunk at a graduation party. Awkward??? Yes! the relationship between Nathan and Whit is sweet and helps her come to terms with why she does the things she does. Then she meets Harrison. Who she thinks she can hook up with, but gets rejected...he's...gay. This book was a really story I do recommend reading it.
Posted September 20, 2013
Posted August 14, 2013
Posted June 11, 2013
Yup, Kody is one of my favorite authors. I don't care what that chick writes, I'll read it. She keeps the teen scene real. She doesn't write her characters the way that society thinks they should be written, she writes them the way that teens are. She even gives her characters real life issues who do really stupid things. I LOVE Kody's writing.
Okay now that my author gushing is out of the way, lets talk about Whitley. Whitley has some serious daddy complex issues. Her parents got divorced when she was young and she never sees her father, except during the summer months. Her mother never remarried and her brother moved away and got married so there was never a male figure in her life. She doesn't realize that she has any issues though, to her, life is a bunch of drunken nights and hookups. Her mom doesn't care about what she does and it isn't until she finds herself meeting her father's new family that she realizes what a difference a "family" can make.
I like that the author gave Nate some struggles of his own. After his father passed away, Nate took to drinking and drugs. He was out of control for a few years and it isn't until he hooked up with a chick who totally brushes him off the next morning that he realizes that his partying isn't so great anymore. Then the poor guy gets kicked in the balls when he meets his soon to be step-dad's daughter, the one and only "bang & bounce", Whitley. (okay I totally made up the whole bang & bounce, that's not her nickname) So now he's saddled for the summer with the chick who totally blew him off after they slept together and to make matters worse, her crazy party ways are having a negative impact on his 13 year old sister.
The cast of characters were awesome in this book. I thought the secondary characters were great, from the gay friend who wasn't your typical stereotypical "gay guy" in a book (You know what I'm talking about) to the younger sister who is excited to have an older sister and looks up to Whitley and even the step-mom who is trying to be attentive and make Whitley feel comfortable in her new environment. Very rarely to I like ALL of the extra characters in a story but I did with this one.
It seems like sex is a huge theme with Kody. The DUFF was a girl who has sex with the guy who called her the "designated ugly fat friend", Shut Out was a jock chick who gets her team members and friends to withhold sex from their boyfriends for the season, and then of course this one with Whitley who is so majorly messed up and out of control. However, with all the other stories, the characters see their ways, right the wrongs and they get a HEA. In this case, it took her scandalous behavior being broadcast via a Facebook group page in order for her to see how wild she'd become.
Yes there is a lot of drinking that takes place in this story but the author shows the consequences of such behavior. She didn't sugar coat what happens due to Whitley's partying. She always shows the fall out to everything that happens in her books. This is a great book and I cannot wait to see what she comes out with next.
Posted June 4, 2013
Posted May 16, 2013
This book was phenomenal. The fact that the charaters had so many things going on that also intertwined with other's plans made the book keep you on your toes. I coculdn't imagine what this girl went through, but finding herself and finally talking to everyone about that she wanted was a big relief. If I didn't remember what happened, I would read it over and over again, but I'll just settle for reading it every few months or so.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted March 10, 2013
Posted February 26, 2013
Kody Keplinger has this way of writing about ideas we take for granted and then turning your entire world upside down. Her books are laugh-out-loud funny and really appeal to my sense of humour with their tongue-in-cheek lines.
I knew that I loved Shut Out enough to read her next book, but A Midsummer's Nightmare is the book that sealed the deal for me and convinced me I'll read whatever Kody writes next. They aren't typically the books I'd choose for myself based off of cover and synopsis alone (I only read Shut Out because of the Greek-inspired story) and that's exactly what I love about them - how unexpected these books are for me.
Reasons to Read:
1. Whitley is not your archetypal YA heroine:
Every so often, I'll read a book with a girl who's acting out in rebellion in one way or another or is rather jaded for some reason. Very rarely do I read about a character that doesn't feel like they're trying too hard to do this, or who come across as kinda bratty. Whitley is one of those rare gems. She's the very definition of cynicism. She has a complicated love life - but doesn't whine about it. You kind of hate her at first, until those layers start peeling back - because she's the quintessential onion, like Shrek. I feel like the Catcher in the Rye comparison is a fair and good one.
2. Cute nerdy crush? CHECK:
I know I can't be the only girl who swoons a little at a cute boy who loves his Star Wars. And other sci fi fun! Nathan was a sweetheart and a half - very Cricket à la Lola and the Boy Next Door. And I appreciated that he really grew as a character all on his own, and it wasn't all about Whitney's maturity and changes. Because frankly, he does some really stupid things.
3. Highlights issues many books shy away from:
What happens when you get a girl who uses a guy for selfish reasons? Just read Whitley's story. We always hear about the guy using the girl, but I thought this was some very poignant role reversal. And some binge drinking issues that don't get talked about as much as other problems do. I love that Kody never shies away from hard topics. Love, love, love it.
A Midsummer's Nightmare is far from a light, flawless little story. Quite honestly? It's extremely heartbreaking. This is the story of some young people that very rarely gets shared so openly. But I can understand why some readers may not enjoy it, because it could be very hard to relate to at the beginning when Whitley is heavy into her partying lifestyle. Few will empathize, and some will sympathize, but I'm aware a number of readers just won't get it.
But for those of us who do get it? It'll rock your world.
ARC received from Hachette Canada for review; no other compensation was received.
Posted November 20, 2012
With its blend of wit, humor, and angst, Whitley has one of the most compelling voices that I've come across in YA lit. Ever since her parents' divorce, Whitley has been a girl who parties hard and acts recklessly out of a feeling of abandonment from her parents. When she's feeling down, she turns to the buzz that alcohol and partying give her. Normally, this kind of behavior would estrange me from the character. Instead, Whitley's flaws serve to make her a very relatable character and all the more endearing. Rather than waiting for her to crash, I hoped that Whitley could turn around. I hoped that she would rely on the characters supporting her.
Out of all the side characters, Bailey has the most influence on Whitley, as the younger girl reminds Whitley of herself at that age: young and innocent, eager to fit in with the "big kids" in high school. Nathan is the next most influential, being Whitley's one-night stand and someone to whom she's attracted. At first, he seems innocent and used and Whitley hard and uncaring in comparison. However, we get to know more of him over the course of the novel, and he turns out to be the most warmhearted and genuine guy in Whitley's life. I love their chemistry and friendship equally well. And then there's Harrison, her new friend with an incredible fashion sense. He's always there to support her when she needs someone outside her messed up family life to listen.
The story has themes of family, love, and the party scene. I did feel that the family element wasn't as fully explored as it could have been. Whitley's father is well-rounded, though he is consistently absent. I didn't feel get to know Whitley's brother as far as a guy who cares about her but can't be there for her, and her mother is someone who only knows how to complain about her ex-husband. Still, the novel does end where it should: on a note of hope and with a gorgeous summer scene.
A Midsummer's Nightmare has been one of my favorite summer reads. It has swoonworthy romance, a summer vacataion, and characters with attitude. Keplinger has addressed some topics that many teens can relate to in a manner that will captivate audiences and have them alternately laughing and crying.
Posted October 17, 2012
The book was so good i couldnt put it down. When i first got the book i was excited to read. Im mean who isnt excited to read about drama like this? I did a report on it nd i had to present in front of the class. My whole english class was taken back at how things unfold. Its a must read book! :DWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted October 5, 2012
Posted August 14, 2012
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Posted July 12, 2012
Here's a first: I'm almost speechless. Not because I didn't like the book (I loved it). Not because I have nothing to say (you know me better than that). I'm struggling because I have so much to say. A Midsummer's Nightmare struck such a nerve with me, and I have a lot of feelings about the themes. Apparently.
So first off, let me start with Whitley. This girl, she's not easy to love. At all. I spent the first half of the book wanting to smack the crap out of her. She's rude, abrasive, swears so much she even got on my nerves (tough feat, as I'm quite the accomplished potty mouth), and is just an all-around beyotch. The girl had a hot, sweet guy who wanted more than a one-night stand; she turns him down, harshly. She has a new almost-step family who genuinely wants to embrace her; she barely tolerates them. She has the opportunity to make true friends; she keeps her distance. All these things about Whitley made me almost struggle with the book.
But then, it hit me, all of these aversions were a reflection of Whitley and the way she uses them in her own life. Because the deal is, if you don't let people close to you, they can't hurt you. In theory. You can pretend that the things people say about you doesn't hurt, because you they're not your friends and you know it's not true. And hey, when your parents pay zero attention to you, any attention is good attention, right?? But the fact of the matter is, words hurt, bad perceptions hurt, can even cause you harm or danger, and that's a lesson the Whitley must learn. That fact that Whitley undergoes this journey towards self-worth, self-esteem was not something that expected when I began reading A Midsummer's Nightmare. But I found it the most moving, thought-provoking theme in the book.
If you haven't read the book yet, you don't know Nathan Caulfield. You must remedy that immediately! And I'll say it, I love good guys in my books. Yes, bad boys can be a lot of fun, but I'll take the good guy any day of the week. Nathan is Whitley's soon-to-be step-brother, with whom she has a funny, and cringe-worthy connection. Nathan was my favorite character in the story. He is practically perfect, in a non-annoying way: handsome, smart, a bit nerdy, athletic, and is so sweet and generous to his family. But Nathan has a few issues of his own, and Whitley learns that perception does not equal reality. That maybe she's capable of hurting others in the same way she's been hurt.
I wish more books like A Midsummer's Nightmare had been around when I was a teen. Were there any books like this in the 90s? If they were out there, I didn't know about them. Teen girls now are so lucky. Yes, society is a cruel place sometimes. But they have so many resources now, books out there that can help them in many situations, with characters that can help see them through. Kody Keplinger. Wow. This young lady is brilliant. I've heard a lot about her books, but haven't read any. If A Midsummer's Nightmare is any indication of her talent, I will definitely be reading the rest.
I could talk for days about this book. It took me an hour to read the last few chapters because I kept getting teary-eyed and choked up with emotions. The level of growth that Whitley experiences is remarkable. The amount of love that Whitley finds herself embraced in, despite her best efforts, was almost overwhelming. A Midsummer's Nightmare is a book that I find myself in awe of and it will be treasured. I can't recommend it highly enough.
Posted July 4, 2012
One of my favorite books ive read. I went to barnes & noble today and i finished it todayy. I just had to find out what happened with whitney. One of my favorite books ever. Its a MUST read for summermWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.