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Tumble & Fall
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Tumble & Fall

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by Alexandra Coutts
     
 

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A novel about the end of days full of surprising beginnings

The world is living in the shadow of oncoming disaster. An asteroid is set to strike the earth in just one week's time; catastrophe is unavoidable. The question isn't how to save the world-the question is, what to do with the time that's left? Against this stark backdrop, three island teens

Overview

A novel about the end of days full of surprising beginnings

The world is living in the shadow of oncoming disaster. An asteroid is set to strike the earth in just one week's time; catastrophe is unavoidable. The question isn't how to save the world-the question is, what to do with the time that's left? Against this stark backdrop, three island teens wrestle with intertwining stories of love, friendship and family-all with the ultimate stakes at hand.

Alexandra Coutts's Tumble & Fall is a powerful story of courage, love, and hope at the end of the world.

Editorial Reviews

Publishers Weekly
As the world faces a catastrophic collision with a giant asteroid, three teenagers spending the summer on Martha’s Vineyard discover that their last week on Earth may be life-changing in good ways as well. Sixteen-year-old Sienna, struggling with her mother’s death and her own mental fragility, tries to relearn how to trust and love with help from a childhood friend; Zan wonders whether the dead boyfriend she has grieved for was faithful to her, even as she grows closer to his best friend; and Caden has to decide whether he can forgive two parents who have abandoned him, though in entirely different ways. Coutts’s characters offer a great deal of depth and appeal, and her writing is both purposeful and rich. As the asteroid collision approaches, Coutts (the author of Wish and Wishful Thinking as Alexandra Bullen) subtly creates urgency without letting it overshadow the natural tension that builds as her three main characters contend with their various strained relationships. The three teenagers’ stories intersect neatly, just in time for a well-considered ending. Ages 12–up. Agent: Sara Shandler, Alloy Entertainment. (Sept.)
VOYA - Elaine Gass Hirsch
What would you do if an asteroid was going to strike the earth in one week and there was nothing that could be done to prevent it? How would you live the final days of your life? Three teens living on Martha's Vineyard experience this catastrophic premise in Tumble & Fall, Coutts's debut novel under her new name. Written from the points of view of two year-round island residents, Zan and Caden, and a seasonal visitor, Sienna, each teen strives to come to peace with past experiences and accept themselves and their families during this frightening and extraordinary time. Coutts has previously published two fantasy novels under the name Alexandra Bullen. She lives full time on Martha's Vineyard, and this richly described setting is integral to the stories of Zan, Caden, and Sienna. The teens struggle with realistic personal and family issues in addition to the doomsday scenario, which could add to the appeal for some middle school and junior high readers. This is recommended for public library collections. Reviewer: Elaine Gass Hirsch
Children's Literature - Caitlin Marineau
What would you do if you thought the world was going to end in a few days? With whom would you spend your last days? What questions would you try to answer? These are some of the concerns that the characters must contend with in Alexandra Coutts’ novel. Surprisingly quiet for a book about the end of the world, Tumble & Fall focuses on the human relationships and personal struggles of people facing the end of days. Readers will witness no asteroid strikes, riots, or survivalist stories; this book instead uses an incoming asteroid strike as a framing device for three stories of teenagers struggling to find their place in the world and their interpersonal relationships. Coutts weaves the experiences of Sienna, Caden, and Zan together throughout the novel as they struggle with family relationships, new romance, and the possibility of betrayal by deceased loved ones, all while catastrophe quickly careens closer. Coutts writes with an accomplished but subtle voice, allowing us to struggle along with the inner conflicts of the characters coming to terms with themselves, their loved ones, and the inevitable. Reviewer: Caitlin Marineau; Ages 12 up.
School Library Journal
09/01/2013
Gr 8 Up—If you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the world would end in a week, what would you do, where would you go, who would you forgive? Scientists in the 1800s began tracking the asteroid Persephone and discovered that with each century, its orbit was getting closer to Earth. Now, in spite of efforts made to send missiles into space to move it out of its destructive intersection with Earth, the impact is only a week away. Three teenagers spend their last week discovering their pasts, coming to terms with the present, and preparing for the future, or the possibility that they won't have one at all. Apocalyptic stories are all the rage these days, but this one stands out. There are no zombies, no deadly diseases, nothing to fight, and no way to win. Coutts has written a memorable novel filled with hope, love, absolution, and courage in the face of almost certain death. It will inspire readers to consider their own mortality and the profound impact they have on those who love them. It will have particular appeal to fans of Susan Beth Pfeffer's "Life As We Knew It" series (Houghton).—Jane Henriksen Baird, Anchorage Public Library, AK
Kirkus Reviews
As a mile-wide asteroid hurtles toward Earth, Coutts (Wishful Thinking, 2011) takes readers to an island off the coast of Massachusetts, where three courageous teens make the most of what little time they have left. A suicide survivor searches for a place to belong. A young man confronts the father he never knew and questions the true meaning of family. And a broken-hearted young woman journeys in search of truth and forgiveness. While there are moments of overlap, the teens' individual stories form the backbone and the heart of this book. Despite this compelling premise, the novel isn't without a blemish or two. Sections of the story drag (which is both surprising and frustrating, given the apocalyptic nature of the plot), and while readers will likely suspend disbelief to a point, there are moments where it is impossible not to question how these teens can be so calm and self-possessed with only days left to live. That said, this is a well-crafted story with compelling characters that will appeal to a wide variety of readers. But what makes it truly special is that, despite its premise, this book manages to be more about beginnings than the inevitable end. In the iconic words of R.E.M., "It's the end of the world as we know it," and this smart, surprisingly feel-good, end-of-days novel is indeed…fine. (Fiction. 14 & up)
From the Publisher

“A refreshing debut.” —Booklist

“In the iconic words of R.E.M., ‘It's the end of the world as we know it,' and this smart, surprisingly feel-good, end-of-days novel is indeed . . . fine.” —Kirkus Reviews

“Coutts's characters offer a great deal of depth and appeal, and her writing is both purposeful and rich.” —Publishers Weekly

“Apocalyptic stories are all the rage these days, but this one stands out. There are no zombies, no deadly diseases, nothing to fight, and no way to win. Coutts has written a memorable novel filled with hope, love, absolution, and courage in the face of almost certain death. It will inspire readers to consider their own mortality and the profound impact they have on those who love them.” —School Library Journal

“Richly developed characters and a tight-knit island setting characterize this impressive novel.” —The Horn Book

Product Details

ISBN-13:
9780374378615
Publisher:
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
Publication date:
09/17/2013
Pages:
384
Product dimensions:
5.70(w) x 8.40(h) x 1.40(d)
Lexile:
830L (what's this?)
Age Range:
12 - 17 Years

Read an Excerpt

Tumble & Fall


By Alexandra Coutts

Farrar, Straus and Giroux

Copyright © 2013 Alloy Entertainment and Alexandra Bullen Coutts
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-374-37862-2



CHAPTER 1

DAY ONE

SIENNA


The day she gets out, it feels like the end.

It's funny to think about endings now. Now that all there is to do is wait. Now that the real end is coming, all of the other endings feel like something else completely. All of the goodbyes, and leaving the people she loved. The people she loved leaving her. They felt like endings at the time. But the next day, she had gotten out of bed, and maybe there was a hollow pit where her stomach used to be, maybe she didn't feel like eating or talking or seeing people for a while, but mostly, things stayed the same.

Sienna's last day at the House is like that. From the second Valerie knocks on the door, business as usual and passing out morning meds, Sienna is already feeling dramatic. The two plastic cups Val holds out like presents, one half-full of lukewarm water and the other rattling with tiny pink pills—these are the last plastic cups. The congealed, microwave-flavored scrambled eggs Sienna shovels down with a plastic spork, alone in the empty House kitchen—these are the last scrambled eggs.

And when Val walks her out to the porch, and they sit with the sides of their knees pressed together on the slats of the rickety swing, listening to the kind of quiet Val taught her to notice, the kind of quiet that feels full and on purpose and like everything's going to be okay—

This is the very last quiet.

She knows that there might be other endings, bigger endings, soon. The end of everything. The end of time. But it doesn't matter. All that matters now is that things are changing again, just when she'd started to hope that they wouldn't.


* * *

"You look fantastic."

Sienna's dad is a first-class professional liar.

Lawyer. Not liar. She always does that.

There's a reason he's the best at what he does, a reason his office is wallpapered in plaques and awards and framed photographs of thick-haired famous friends. He's the best because he only lies when he wants something badly enough; and usually, what he wants is to be telling the truth.

The morning he arrives at Sutton House, he's on debate-club fire. Proposition Number One involves convincing them both that, despite all evidence to the contrary, Sienna does not have "nursing-home hair." Nursing-home hair: an institution-related phenomenon occurring when a person, usually a patient of some kind, spends much of the day sitting in the same corner of the same couch and/or can't be bothered to shower. The resulting self-adhesive updo can be described in many ways. Fantastic is not one of them.

"They have mirrors here, Dad," she reminds him, pulling open the heavy door of his old BMW—"old" in that it's older than the new one he bought right after she was sent away. "Unless fantastic is legalese for homeless and lacking shampoo, I'd say you're trying to make me feel better."

Dad rushes around from the driver's side to pry the beat-up duffel from her fingers. He tosses it with a flourish onto the backseat, as if ushering her luggage those last few airborne moments deserves applause or a cookie. He settles for a hug. "Thanks for coming to get me," she says, breathing into the warm, reddish stubble at his neck. She says it like he had a choice.

Val waves from the porch. Dad looks offended that she doesn't see them off, but Sienna knows how it is. Inside the House, Val's on her team. She's everything Sienna needs, whenever she needs it. Outside, it's different. Parents aren't really Val's thing.

And besides, Val and Sienna have had plenty of time for goodbyes. For the past week it's been just the two of them, roaming the halls of the converted mansion on the corner of Wilson and Rye. Even though the news reports had started out vague, it wasn't long before parents started showing up. Val said it wasn't supposed to happen so fast, they were supposed to have time to finish out their programs, however long they had left, but after the "precautions," people were starting to panic. Sienna's roommate, Mary Beth, was one of the first to go. She hadn't even stopped bleeding through the bandages on her forearms when her parents came to take her home. The rest of them weren't too far behind.

Dad had been away on a tax case in San Francisco. He made it back just before all flights were grounded, landing at the airport the very night it closed. He says it was eerie-calm, untouched, as if crowds of people had been abducted all at once. Newsstands with colorful displays, the food court neon and blinking. He says it was like sneaking into an amusement park after hours, or getting locked inside a museum.

The official release called the suspension of air travel "temporary," just until the FAA could be sure that satellites and navigation systems wouldn't be disturbed. But to most people, to Sienna, it felt like the world was shutting down for good. Sienna didn't mind being stuck in the House while it happened. She was used to the routine, the PG movies, the mindless crafts. And there wasn't exactly a whole lot to look forward to about going home. If Dad and her little brother, Ryan, could have moved into the House with her and Val, she probably would've voted for that option instead.

The car purrs and Dad clicks through the radio stations. Sarah Vaughan is slinking through a version of "Lullaby of Birdland." Dad raps his fingers against the steering wheel. "Really missed you, Goose."

He looks over his shoulder, into the road. There are no cars, but he doesn't pull out, just stays twisted like that, his thick blond eyebrows low and serious, watching the stoplight as it changes. Red to green to yellow. Red again.

She knows there are things he wants to say but can't, at least not without his face crumpling like tissue paper, the way it did when he dropped her off. He probably thinks she didn't see, that she was too far gone back then to notice.

There are things she wants to say to him, too. Things she's said before and will say again, things like It's not your fault. You did the best you could. You gave me more than I was worth. Val says it's good she can talk to him like this. That she's one of the lucky ones, lucky enough to realize how lucky she is.

But there is one thing. One thing she can't say, one thing she'll never be able to hear echoing back at her in the thick silence after she's said it.

I was trying to leave you. I was trying to leave you behind.


* * *

They're heading south on 95. She doesn't notice that they've been driving too long until the sky gets big and the car smells like ocean.

"Nice nap?" Dad asks, turning off the AC and rolling down the windows.

Sienna stretches her arms and presses the tips of her fingers against the windshield. There was a lot of day-dozing at the House and she's starting to feel like it might be a tough habit to kick. "Where are we going?"

She should be seeing pine trees and winding suburban roads lined with manicured hedges and boxy McMansions. Instead, as they pull off the highway and onto a narrow street, she recognizes the shingled shacks and souvenir shops near the harbor.

"Thought it might be good for us to be by the water." Dad winks as they pull down a long, paved road. He stops at the ticket booth, and the boat attendant, a college kid with a farmer's tan and a spray of freckles on the tops of his hands, checks their name off a list.

"Good for us?" Sienna scoffs. Even Sienna can imagine that being surrounded by water might not be the safest choice.

"You know what I mean." Dad sighs, and she does. He means in the bonding sense. The nostalgic sense. The senses that might be important if this really is the end.

It isn't lost on her now, the irony of it all. She had wanted nothing more than to die, to disappear, and now it looks like there's a good chance that she will. They all will. There were days in the House when somebody would sneak a few minutes of CNN, or hear some new projected date on the radio, days that she'd feel strangely at ease. As if, after months, years, of feeling at odds with the universe, things were finally working out in a way she could understand.

Her hand is on the door before they've come to a full stop. She weaves between rows of cars in the standby line, overflowing with mainland supplies. There's the usual summertime staples, paper bags of groceries, spare pillows, dog beds, mixed in with some more serious-looking emergency gear. A truck packed with gas-powered generators. An entire backseat stocked with plastic jugs of filtered water. Sienna eyes the drivers, most of them riding solo, anxiously waiting to board the ferry. The line of cars is much shorter than usual.

But the harbor itself looks exactly the same. She had no idea how much she'd missed it, all of it: the creaking of the docks, the bustle of steamship employees as they ready the passenger ramps. Val liked to say that depression has blinders, a physical barricade between a person and the things that once made her the most herself.

She half skips out to the end of the dock and shields her eyes from the sun. The ferry is just making the turn, gliding to shore as the big door to the lower deck pulls open. She doesn't hear Dad until his heavy palm falls on her shoulder.

"Just in time, Goose," he says, squeezing her into his side. She smiles and leans against him, remembering for the first time in a long time the leg-flailing tantrums she used to throw if they didn't get to watch the boat pull in. When she was little enough she'd sit on Dad's shoulders, and Mom would tug at her ankles, pointing at the horizon and racing to catch the first glimpse.


* * *

"So."

Dad's back in the boat's lounge from the snack bar, a Coke for Sienna and a plastic cup of foamy Sam Adams for him. He stretches his arms out wide behind him, his long, skinny fingers rolling over the edge of the booth. As much as a sixteen-year-old girl and her father can inhabit the same physical frame, Sienna and her father do. Same light, straight hair and low, furrowed brow, same long, sloping neck and thin, ropy arms. Same wide, knotted knuckles on bony, witchlike hands. Mom used to say if she hadn't pushed through twenty-three hours of agonizing labor, she would have believed that Sienna had sprung directly from one of Dad's shoulder blades, like some winged mythological creature.

It's one of the new boats they're on, imposing and spotless, with elevated loading decks and shiny new fiberglass tables. High above Dad's sand-colored cowlick, a Red Sox rerun plays on the flat-screen TV. He swivels around to catch the third and final pitch of an inning, guffaws like it matters, and turns back to steady his elbows on the table.

"So," he says again. Sienna looks out at the water. It's choppier than she would have imagined, sharp little whitecaps rolling over the glassy blue-gray.

"I have some news." His voice cracks, but she's still staring at the ocean, waiting to see the first shadows of land. This was the other game they played. Dad would claim to see the contours of the island first, long before the route they were traveling made such spotting humanly possible.

"It's pretty exciting, and I've been really looking forward to telling you, but I wanted to do it in person, so ..." Dad shifts closer to the window so that she has no choice but to look him in the eyes.

"What's up?" Sienna asks. He turns back to the water, and behind the sharp profile of his nose, her nose on his face, she sees it: the snaking line of the harbor town, the scattered rooftops, the bridge, and the boats. "There it is!" she calls out, even though it's clear she's the only one playing.

"Sienna," Dad says quietly. Her stomach flips and wrenches. She can count on one hand the number of times he's called her by her real name.

Sienna, your mom's going back into the hospital.

She's gone, Sienna, I'm sorry.

She half expects to see tears when she looks back at his face, the tears that, when she was younger, seemed to be constantly pooling at the corners of his light blue eyes, rarely spilling over but always there, a watery threat. But all she sees is the same shaky smile.

"I'm getting married." His eyes are staring into her face like she's one of those 3-D pictures, like he's waiting for the real Sienna to pop off the page. The TV blurs behind him, everything blurs, until his face looms, distorted and unsteady, like a giant parade float. "Nobody you know, I don't think. Her name is Denise. I was doing some work pro bono for the Boys and Girls Club. She's on the board of directors. It hasn't been long, but ... well, with all that's going on ..."

He lowers his voice and gestures outside, which is, she's noticed, what people do when they talk about what's happening. As if Persephone—the mile-wide asteroid poised to collide with some unlucky part of the planet, strong enough perhaps to knock them all off of rotation and into some eternal darkness they can't begin to understand—is nothing but an oblivious child, just out of earshot.

"We're going to do a ceremony, and a big party afterward. Next week at the house. Denny's never been to the island before—"

"Denny?" Sienna spits before she can help it. Her voice trembles from the racing of her pulse and she watches her fingers shake. She tries to freeze them with a sharp, steady gaze.

Dad coughs, a stalling clear of his throat. "I thought it would be nice for us all to spend some time together," he says. He reaches across the table and covers her trembling wrists with his hands. She tries to swallow but her throat is scratchy and dry. She wants to rip her hands away. Instead, she tenses the muscles of her forearms, pressing her fingers deeper into the table.

She feels tricked. He knows she won't put up a fight. She's done her fighting. Sienna was the one who had always fought to keep them together. And when it wasn't enough, when nothing got better, when things inside of her only got darker, she fought against the darkness. She fought until it was too much, and then she gave up.

And now she's back, with new meds, new "coping strategies." Just in time to wait for an asteroid, and a wedding. She isn't sure which is worse.

Sienna carefully frees one hand and takes a long sip of soda, realizing after she's swallowed, after the cool, bitter foam has coated her tongue, that she's grabbed his beer instead. Dad raises one eyebrow high above the other. "Something you picked up in rehab?"

She draws the back of one hand slowly across her mouth, refusing to let him see her smile. The boat shudders and shakes, the doors folding open as they pull into the dock. A hurried voice on the PA directs all passengers back to their cars. Sienna stands first and Dad touches her shoulder, pulling her in for an awkward sideways hug. "It's a good thing," he whispers into her hair. "I promise."

She follows him down to the car, where they sit and they wait in a new kind of quiet.


ZAN

"I know, I know, I'm super late. I'm sorry."

Zan pauses at the bottom of the rocky ledge, stepping out of her flip-flops and looping them around one finger. She is racing the sun—if she gets to their spot before sunset, they'll have plenty of time to talk before dark, before the mosquitoes swarm her ankles and her mother starts to wonder where she's been.

"I've been trying to get out of there since three o'clock. I swear Miranda thinks she's running some sort of factory in our house. I thought when she closed the gallery she'd chill out or something, just work in the garden and read and listen to music—you know, the stuff she said she wanted to do when she retires. I mean, if ever there was a reason to force retirement I'd say the end of the world is it, right?"

Zan catches her breath at the top. She drops her shoes and heavy canvas bag into the sandy patch between two rocks and scales the tallest boulder up to the point, where she has the clearest view. The ocean stretches out for miles, the red clay rocks of the beach below changing colors as the waves roll in and retreat, leaving behind a labyrinth of shallow, misshapen puddles. Just beyond the next cliff, sprawling summer estates jut out toward the horizon. Leo likes to laugh about how expensive it must be, pretending to own this view, when they've always been able to get it for free.

"Which isn't to say that she's not doing those things," Zan goes on, her voice a sharp trill. "She's doing the shit out of them, like some kind of neo-hippie drill sergeant. She has a calendar on the dry-erase board in the kitchen now. There are allotted times for everything. Feeding the animals, harvesting—fine, I get it, but 'Free Read'? 'Correspondence'? It's like a boarding school in nineteenth-century England. I can't stand it."


(Continues...)

Excerpted from Tumble & Fall by Alexandra Coutts. Copyright © 2013 Alloy Entertainment and Alexandra Bullen Coutts. Excerpted by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux.
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

Alexandra Coutts is a graduate of NYU's Tisch School of the Arts, where she received an MFA in Dramatic Writing. She lives on Martha's Vineyard with her husband and daughter.

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