The Sister Pact

The Sister Pact

4.3 7
by Stacie Ramey
     
 

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Who holds your secrets?

Allie is devastated when her sister commits suicide-and it's not just because she misses her. Allie feels betrayed. The two made a pact that they'd always be together, in life and in death, but Leah broke her promise and Allie needs to know why.

Her parents hover. Her friends try to support her. And Nick, sweet Nick, keeps

Overview

Who holds your secrets?

Allie is devastated when her sister commits suicide-and it's not just because she misses her. Allie feels betrayed. The two made a pact that they'd always be together, in life and in death, but Leah broke her promise and Allie needs to know why.

Her parents hover. Her friends try to support her. And Nick, sweet Nick, keeps calling and flirting. Their sympathy only intensifies her grief.

But the more she clings to Leah, the more secrets surface. Allie's not sure which is more distressing: discovering the truth behind her sister's death or facing her new reality without her.

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher
"A well-written portrait, not just of grief but also of the pain of realizing you didn't really know someone you thought you were close to. Ramey's haunting novel is reminiscent of Jennifer Brown's Hate List (2009), with similar themes of devastating hindsight, and Gayle
Forman's I Was Here (2015), which also captures the desperation to make sense of a loved one's suicide... A heavy but powerful read that tackles big topics without letting them drag the narrative down." - Booklist

"A powerful story of redemption, forgiveness, love, and the ability to persevere." - VOYA Magazine

"The story reads like Go Ask Alice...As Allie learns the many sordid secrets of her sister's concealed life, she begins to understand the powerful influence her sister had on her and, a talented painter, struggles to find her own voice. " - Kirkus

"The story is well written and will hold teens' interest" - School Library Connection

VOYA, December 2015 (Vol. 38, No. 5) - Erin Segreto
Life has changed dramatically for Allie, a once carefree teen with a passion for painting. Her older sister, Leah, has just committed suicide, leaving Allie behind to pick up the pieces of her life. She cannot understand why Leah did it without her, breaking their pact to be together in life and death. From overbearing parents who constantly bicker over what is best for her to hypersensitive friends and teachers, Allie seeks the numb comfort provided in an over-the-counter bottle of cold medicine and prescription drugs. The more she remembers Leah and the night she died, the more secrets reveal themselves and Allie spirals out of control seeking the truth. No longer inspired to be the person she once was, Allie struggles to find reasons to remain in the life her sister no longer wanted before it is too late for her as well. In her debut novel, The Sister Pact, Ramey tackles the difficult topics of suicide, abuse, and drug addiction. It is a gut-wrenching story of Allie’s life after her sister’s death, and readers often feel helpless as she proceeds down a path of self-destruction. Her family life is depicted with raw realism and it is surprisingly easy to feel sympathetic toward every character. As this is a story containing abuse, depression, and teen suicide and its aftermath, some characters unsurprisingly use illegal and prescription drugs. There is a brief scene in which the main character engages in a sexual act, which ultimately contributes to her character development. Overall, it is a powerful story of redemption, forgiveness, love, and the ability to persevere. Reviewer: Erin Segreto; Ages 15 to 18.
Kirkus Reviews
2015-08-31
In the aftermath of her sister's suicide, Allie's grief is thick and relentless. Allie adored her older sister, Leah. What with boyfriend troubles, their mom's Xanax addiction, and their dad's affair, the sisters had a pact that they would die together if things ever got too awful. Now, Allie is reeling from her sister's solo fatal overdose, and she's not coping well. The story reads like Go Ask Alice, as, page to page, Allie's swigging NyQuil or swallowing yet another pill. She's constantly drifting in a haze of queasy highs and nauseous lows. Frequent ghostly visitations from her dead sister seem to lead Allie ever deeper into drug use and further from reality. As Allie learns the many sordid secrets of her sister's concealed life, she begins to understand the powerful influence her sister had on her and, a talented painter, struggles to find her own voice. Allie's fraught inner monologues and hallucinated conversations with her sister succeed in illustrating Allie's emotional struggle. As if her own struggles aren't enough, Allie's flat, present-tense narration recounts additional teen drama, such as friends' squabbles and sexual dalliances, and much of the dialogue feels scripted: "Don't push me away. I didn't mean it. I don't love her like—." An earnest, overstuffed look at the collateral damage of suicide and drug abuse. (Fiction. 13-18)

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9781492620976
Publisher:
Sourcebooks
Publication date:
11/03/2015
Pages:
320
Sales rank:
265,636
Product dimensions:
5.60(w) x 8.20(h) x 0.70(d)
Lexile:
HL450L (what's this?)
Age Range:
14 - 17 Years

Read an Excerpt

The Sister Pact


By Stacie Ramey

Sourcebooks, Inc.

Copyright © 2015 Stacie Ramey
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4926-2098-3


CHAPTER 1

The last thing we did as a family was bury my sister. That makes this meeting even harder to face.

I don't have to be a psychic to know what everyone thinks when they look at me. Why did she do it? Why didn't I? And the thing is, after all that happened, I'm not sure I know the answer to either.

Mom walks behind me, her hand gently curled around my bicep. Dad motions to show us where to sit, even though the guidance office is new ground for him.

I force myself to look into the faces of my judges and feel immediate relief. The principal, Mrs. Pendrick, smiles, warm and sweet, and the wrinkly skin around her eyes and lips lifts as she does. Mr. Hicks, my guidance counselor, the one the girls think is sort of cute, stands next to her. Where Mrs. Pendrick is all soft creases, he's wide shoulders, built for dealing with bad kids or bad parents, but he winks at me like he wants me to know he's on my side.

Mrs. Pendrick places a hand on mine. "It's nice to see you, Allie. We're so glad you're back."

Her hand is like an island of safe in a sea of danger. I smile at her so she thinks I'm okay. I smile so it looks like I'm not breaking. Like everything that happened was a mistake and I'm ready for a do-over.

Mr. Kispert, my art teacher, comes barreling into the room, carrying his iced coffee and my portfolio. "Sorry I'm late," he says. He nods at me and I try to nod back, but my body's kind of frozen. I had no idea he'd be here too.

"We were just getting started." Mrs. Pendrick opens a file, my name written on the tab. "I pulled Allie's records. She's on track for graduation next year, of course."

I tell myself to pay attention. I try to focus on Mrs. Pendrick, whose Southern accent makes her sound as misplaced as "the wrong Alice" in the new version of Alice in Wonderland, but it's hard.

"We may want to take a look at the courses she's chosen for this year." Mrs. Pendrick adjusts her reading glasses and flips through the pages.

My eyes hurt, the start of a migraine. I blink.

"We want to make certain we're not asking too much of her." Mr. Hicks shifts forward, his hands loosely steepled on the fake mahogany table in front of him.

The surface of the table is so shiny, I see my face in it, distorted and strange. I blink again. Caught somewhere between the blink and the reflection, I see her, Leah, in her black leotard and pink tights, like she's waiting in the wings for her cue.

Even though I realize it's just a trick of the light, I can't help staring at not-real-Leah, waiting to see if she's going to dance. I'm staring so hard, I must have stopped paying attention to what's going on around me because Dad's voice is stern. "Sit up, Allie. These people are here for you."

I square myself in my seat, horrified by the look of pity that crosses Mr. Hicks's face.

Mrs. Pendrick reaches across the table and takes my hand again, her touch soft as butter. "Are you okay, dear?"

"I'm fine. I just have a headache."

Dad shoots me a look like he wants me to behave, to make up for Leah. As if I could.

"Mr. Blackmore, we have to be patient with Allie," Mrs. Pendrick insists.

I should probably warn Mrs. Pendrick that Dad doesn't believe in being patient. It's all about domination and war games with him. He's the general. I'm the soldier he commands, and he will not lose this hill. No matter what. When I look at him, I see dried blood caked on his hands. Mom's. Leah's. Mine.

I shake that image out of my head and try to find my Happy. I think about everyone's colors. Mrs. Pendrick would be creamy yellow, icing pink, powder blue. And Mr. Hicks would be something easy too, like golf-course-turf green. I try to think about how I would paint them if I still painted. And just like that, Happy has left the building. Like Leah did.

"It's her junior year." Dad leans forward, his not-giving-an-inch stance making my stomach knot. I already know his colors: muddy brown, gray black, the color of pissed. "We need to get her back on track."

"We understand that." Mr. Hicks folds his hands again like a tent. "But this is going to be a very hard year for Allie."

It is going to be a hard year. And no meeting is going to change that. So instead of listening to them, I close my eyes and call to my mind the sound of Leah's ballet shoes shuffling against the floor. Eight weeks after, I can still hear them, but who knows for how long? Right now, I'm so grateful for the soft slide, slide, slide that is so real and strong that it fills me with unreasonable hope. Maybe she hasn't left me. Maybe it didn't happen. Maybe she'll forgive me.

"Maybe we could keep just two of the AP classes?" Mom suggests.

I open my eyes and pray I'm not crazy. It's hard to know if you are. Nobody really thinks they are. But I can almost hear Leah laughing with me — so like her to laugh when I'm in the hot seat and she's not.

Mr. Kispert takes out my portfolio and lays it on the table next to a brochure from the Rhode Island School of Design. The requirements are highlighted in crime-scene-tape yellow. "Allie should keep her AP Studio Art class. I'll supervise her. She'll do fine, and she needs it to work on her application."

Reading upside down, I can make out all the things I need to do to make that happen. Last year it all seemed easy. Now each step feels like a mountain I'm not equipped to climb. Mr. Kispert looks at me and winks. I smile back, even though I feel like a complete fake. I can't do art anymore, and I don't know how to tell him.

Mom puts her hand out to take the brochure, and it shakes. Please don't let Dad notice. Please. Dad grunts and takes it instead. "I'm not giving up on my daughter. Even if you guys are."

"Nobody's giving up on her," Mr. Hicks says. "We just want her to be okay."

"She wants to go to RISD. How do you expect her to get into a top art school if you don't give her the right classes?" His voice strains, and for a second I think he's going to cry, which I've never seen him do — except when we buried Leah.

"David, please." Mom says.

He slams the table hard. "Goddammit, Karen, this is what you do, what you always do. You give into the girls." He clears his throat. "Her. You give into her."

Mom's eyes well at Dad's obvious stumble. They've been calling Leah and I them or the girls for so long. It must be hard to adjust, but seeing Dad struggle with the math makes me feel horrible. We did this. We cut his regiment in half. Maybe his heart too. I want to reach out to him. I want to tell him I'm sorry. That I didn't think she meant it. That I definitely didn't — until I did. But that's a cop-out. Truth is, I don't remember most of that night.

Dad's voice sounds like he's surrendering. "What do you want me to do, Karen? Let her fail? That's not exactly going to fix her, is it?"

Everybody gets quiet. I can feel the silence like a noose around my neck. Dad's pain radiates off him. Mom's shame makes her sink into the chair. Mr. Hicks and Mrs. Pendrick sit, waiting for the right thing to say to heal this family. But there isn't anything to be said after all this. After what Leah did and what I almost did.

I close my eyes and wish Leah were here. I wish so hard, I can almost feel her holding my hand. Sometimes she did that when Mom and Dad fought. Sometimes she held my hand and I'd play with her silver flower ring, the one she always wore. They buried her with that ring. Mom said she wanted to give it to me, but I wanted Leah to have it. I lay my head on the table, the cool feeling enough to calm me for a minute.

"Jesus, Allie, can you try to focus?" I lift my head to see Dad close his eyes, and I know I've pushed him too hard. He shakes his head like a bull. He does that when he's done. He stares at the ceiling. "Is this how it's going to be now? Are you going to give up?"

And just like that he makes me want to disappear, makes me wish I could be wherever Leah is now, away from him and his shit. Away from everyone's expectations. Away from his stupid war with Mom.

And more than ever, I wish Leah were here. If she were here, really here, she'd stop Dad from being a jerk. She'd make Mom sit up straight and actually have an opinion. She'd take over this meeting and make them stop talking about my life as if I'm not even in it. Leah could totally do that. She was epic.

Until she killed herself.

Mrs. Pendrick clears her throat. "I understand your concerns, Mr. Blackmore. Junior year is a very important year. But Allie needs to heal."

We Blackmores? We don't heal. We patch up and make do. We Blackmores move on. It's in some contract that Dad made us sign when we were born. Leah's in breach. Now I'm the one in the spotlight. Thanks, Sis.

"Allie's seeing someone." Dad clears his throat. "A psychiatrist."

Mom nods quickly to show they're on the same page, which has been a ridiculously rare occurrence since Mom's Xanax addiction made the scene. Or since Dad's girlfriend, Danielle, did. The one that has texted him three times since he picked Mom and me up today. I guess she was mad he didn't let her come. To my meeting. My head starts pounding. I reach into my backpack and pull out an Excedrin pack and a Gatorade.

"What are you doing?" Mom's face gets red.

"I have a headache," I explain.

"You're supposed to tell me, and I give it to you." She shuffles around in her purse.

"It's just Excedrin." Does she honestly want to become my personal med vending machine? Like a human PEZ dispenser? I rip open the packet and put the pills on my tongue. Everyone gets quiet and looks at me like I just bit the head off a bat.

This is so outrageous. I can't deal with it alone. Leah should be facing this horrible aftermath with me. Every suicide pact needs a fallback for prisoners of war. Apparently.

Dad's hand goes on Mom's. It's a small gesture but so foreign in their full-scale battle that I can't pull my eyes from the spectacle. Mom puts her purse back on the arm of her chair. I'm not sure if I've imagined it, but I think I hear the sound of the pills rattling in their bottles, and that worries me greatly. Now that Leah's gone AWOL, I don't think I'd follow her, but if I'm so solid, why the hell am I wondering how many pills Mom has on her?

"I want to hear how Allie feels," Mr. Hicks says, breaking my reverie.

I swallow hard. How do I feel? I feel like I'm breaking inside. I can't see colors anymore. It's like when Leah left, she took the best of me. I feel like if one of us should have lived, it should have been her. She'd be way better in the role of surviving sister than I am. She'd have better hair too.

"Allie?" Dad prompts. "Mr. Hicks asked you a question. How do you feel?"

Sometimes I feel like I'm no more here than Leah is. Sometimes I forget. I think it didn't happen. I wait for my cell to ring. I think she's going to burst into the room, full of life and pissed at me for having borrowed one of her things. But then I remember. And it's like that night all over again. And I get mad — at her for going, and them for not even knowing that I'm not just mad she went, but also that she didn't take me with her. Like she promised. Like we promised each other.

"Allie?" Dad's voice gets tighter.

But I can't tell them any of that. They don't want to hear about that. Everyone's so sick of death, they want me to lighten the mood. It's up to me. I'm on stage now. Dad's beating the drum. Mom's cowering. My teachers and the guidance counselors are waiting like revival attendees ready to be preached to, ready to clap. I can't disappoint them. So I try to be like Leah. I sit up tall. I "dance." "It's fine." I look at Mom so she'll know I mean it. Mostly. "AP art classes. Everything else honors."

"You sure you can do that, sweetie?" I hear the relief in Mom's voice. She wants to believe it's all over. I guess I can't really blame her.

Mrs. Pendrick's face screws up. "I think this is a mistake."

"I agree," Mr. Hicks says. "But let's do this. How about we move forward with that schedule and keep an eye on you, Allie? That sound okay? We're here whenever you need."

"Perfect." Dad stands.

Mom follows his lead.

I stand too, not wanting to break rank, especially when there's been a break in the fighting. It's not that I think it's so perfect, but I'm playing the part of the foot soldier, as usual. We soldiers march and follow orders. We soldiers act like it's all good. Hup, two, three, four. Even when we're breaking.

CHAPTER 2

I meet Emery outside her house. She's in tiny running shorts and a sports bra, letting her island-girl skin take center stage. Muscles look better in tan than white. They just do. But Emery's long legs and tight booty would be fierce in any color. She gathers up her long, curly hair in a ponytail, then makes a messy bun and asks. "So, how was it?"

"Fine." I get one last look at my cell, see no new texts, and stash it in my pocket. "Why are we doing this again?"

Emery frowns. She knows whose text I'm waiting for. The same one I always wait for. The unspoken issue between Emery and me that I need to get over — Max. I'm glad she doesn't confront that monster but instead simply says, "I've gotta get in shape. You know Mr. Carbon doesn't cast fat actresses."

It's not like Emery's even close to fat. She's not in the ZIP code of fat. She knows this. So do I, but I also know that she's right about the drama teacher at our school. Leah used to say that he picked out the girls who gave up their ambitions over the summer for ice cream and pizza.

"Okay, but why am I doing this?" I ask.

"Because you're my best friend and you're supporting me."

"More like being left behind." Once we get going, Emery will lap me for sure.

"I'll stay with you this time. I swear."

True to her word, Emery starts slow. At first I feel like I can do it. I can run the six miles she's got mapped out for us. "You just want to run by Taylor's house. Admit it," I pant between breaths.

"So what? I look hot when I run."

She's right. She does. Her hair stays in place. Her face stays the same perfect olive color. Her muscles propel her forward. She travels across the landscape more than she runs. Watching her do anything physical is like watching Leah dance.

We round the corner. "So tell me," she says, her breath even.

"Mr. Kispert was there."

Emery glances at the house we're running past and the thin woods behind it. On the other side of those trees is my yard. My backyard with my studio. The one Dad had built for me. At the time I was ecstatic. It felt important, as if he saw me — really saw me — and he knew I was special. But now, I get it. It wasn't a gift. It was an obligation. A promise I made to be the talented daughter who would make him proud.

We pick up the pace, and I am grateful to be moving away from all that, at least for now. My good mood sours as soon as we pass Max's house. His car is parked out front, meaning he's home. And he didn't text. He didn't check in to see how I was, even though he knew how hard today would be.

Emery reads my mood like a psychic at the county fair. "You know how he is."

"Whatever." This time I increase the pace, as if tiring myself out will prove I'm over him.

"Maybe you need to broaden your field."

I concentrate on my legs, which are starting to feel like lead. I tell myself to keep going. I tell my legs to push off like Emery's do. I tell myself that if Leah were here, she'd race me to the end of the street, beat me, then taunt me the rest of the way.

She's still so with me, I can almost hear her saying, You're slow, Baby Sister. Sloppy Seconds.

So I start racing. I sprint to the end of the street. Emery's long legs outpace me without even a struggle. I bend over and hold my side, try to catch my breath. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

A group of guys jog our way, keeping in a tight formation, teammates in training. They're too far away to see which team. My heart skips a little. I try not to hope Max is with them. As they get closer, I see they aren't the swimmers but baseball players.

They mostly ignore me as they pass, which is totally cool. Except one of them doesn't. Nick Larsons stops, comes closer. Nick Larsons — part baseball player, part artist. I'm not sure the exact proportions of each. He has a tight first-baseman build and warm hazel eyes. He paints more realistic than I like but still decent.

Emery gives me an approving look and then takes off running alongside the baseball team, faster than she and I were running but still not even a challenge for her.

Nick looks at me like he's so glad to see me. He actually looks happy that I'm here, which, in a way, surprises me. "Hey, Allie. What's up?"

I don't answer, just start running again. "I'm slow. You can go ahead."

He runs next to me, easy jock strides, all muscle and strength. Everything I wish I were. He turns and faces backward, jogging the whole time. "You taking studio?" he asks.


(Continues...)

Excerpted from The Sister Pact by Stacie Ramey. Copyright © 2015 Stacie Ramey. Excerpted by permission of Sourcebooks, Inc..
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.

Meet the Author

Stacie Ramey learned to read at a very early age to escape the endless tormenting from her older siblings. She attended the University of Florida where she majored in communication sciences and Penn State where she received a Master of Science degree in Speech Pathology. When she's not writing, she engages in Netflix wars with her children or beats her husband in Scrabble. She lives in Wellington, Florida with her husband, three children, and two rescue dogs.

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The Sister Pact 4.3 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 7 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The Sister Pact was an engrossing book from beginning to end. I couldn't put it down. The characters were well developed and full bodied. Allie, Leah, Nick, Brittany and Max were so believable that I felt they could have been sitting in my high school classes. The plot wrapped around with twists and turns and surprises that kept me up at night and wanting more. I cannot wait to read book 2.... Thank you Stacie Ramey for understanding teen angst and writing about a difficult topic with such tenderness and understanding. A wonderful read for young adults and adults alike!
Deb-Krenzer More than 1 year ago
4.5 Stars! This was one hard book to read due to the subject matter. Twos sisters have made a pact that if one commits suicide, the other will do the same. Well, one night the oldest does that and leaves the youngest wondering, why didn't she take me? The story is rather sad as Allie tries to figure out what happened that night that Leah couldn't wait for her. Allie sees Leah everywhere. She's helping her dress, fixing her hair, telling her that certain people are no good for her. It's like she never left, but Allie knows that she has. Her painting suffers, she suffers. She blames herself. Slowly, the answers come out. This was a very good book, but like I said, the subject matter was a little intense. While reading it, I felt for Allie and just could not put it down. There was something going on there. A reason. A reason why Leah did that to herself and I just had to know. Allie and Leah were so close. What made Leah do that to herself? She had a great life; or did she? I seriously could not put this book down. Little by little the reader is given hints and insights into the family life of Allie and Leah and their friends. You learn little secrets along the way, which build up, in Leah's mind, to the final straw. This book was very well written and was an excellent YA book. I also think that adults would be interested in reading this as well. I know that I was. I really got close to the sisters and my heart poured out to Allie as she tried to be normal as a teenager, of which there is no normal in that phase of life. I would like to thank Sourcebooks and Net Galley for providing me with this free e-galley in exchange for an honest review. I found the book very emotional, real and heartfelt. I could not put it down and definitely recommend it!
Laura_at_125Pages More than 1 year ago
4.25 Stars Original review on www.125pages.com I received this book for free from Netgalley in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review. ♦ The Sister Pact is a book that should be required reading for teens. Allie and Leah are two peas in a pod. Sisters who share clothes, makeup and a secret. They have a pact to check out when life gets too hard. But then Leah commits suicide alone, leaving Allie grieving and angry that she was left behind. As Allie tries to find the why behind Leah’s actions she discovers that she may not have know her sister, or herself, as well as she thought. This book delves into a painful topic, youth suicide. Suicide is the SECOND leading cause of death for ages 10-24. (2013 CDC WISQARS). While fiction, The Sister Pact, provides a glimpse into the lives of those left behind. At times, raw and painful, this book can help show why suicide isn’t a way out. It lingers and lives far beyond the individual. The family, friends and community are all affected in a deep way. The Sister Pact does not glamorize Leah’s death but reflects it off of those around her. Books like this are so necessary as they help show another side of a decision that impacts a family and a community. There is help and resources for those considering and the people left behind. The National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, 1-800-273-TALK (8255), provides access to trained telephone counselors, 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. ◊ Favorite lines – “Mom lies to keep us moving. She is fine: lie. Dad still loves us: lie. I am good enough: lie. Each move is carefully negotiated. Each lie is designed. She plays an excellent game. I should be impressed. I’m not. I don’t want to live like this anymore.”
Anonymous 3 months ago
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Anonymous 10 months ago
I LOVE IT IT SO EMOTIONAL ITS LOWKEY DEPPRESSING
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This was such an intense novel that has left a lasting impression on me long after turning the last page. Allie's struggle to come to terms with a shattered life after losing a beloved sister in a tragic suicide pact is heart wrenching and poignant. Stacie Ramey does a brilliant job in conveying Allie's emotional rollercoaster ride, and provides tremendous insight into the issues faced by many young people today. Pick up this tremendous tour de force debut today. It's haunting, thought-provoking, and inspirational all at once. Two enthusiastic thumbs up!
Jewelzzz More than 1 year ago
A must read for teens as well as adults. The Sister Pact covers everything from love, betrayal, grief and every emotions no between. Stacie really develops the characters, Allie and Leah, to the point where you feel like you know them personally.