The Indigo Notebook (Notebook Series #1)

The Indigo Notebook (Notebook Series #1)

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The Indigo Notebook (Notebook Series #1) by Laura Resau, Justine Eyre

An exciting new series from the acclaimed author of Red Glass.

Zeeta's life with her free-spirited mother, Layla, is anything but normal. Every year Layla picks another country she wants to live in. This summer they’re in Ecuador, and Zeeta is determined to convince her mother to settle down. Zeeta makes friends with vendors at the town market and begs them to think of upstanding, “normal” men to set up with Layla. There, Zeeta meets Wendell. She learns that he was born nearby, but adopted by an American family. His one wish is to find his birth parents, and Zeeta agrees to help him. But when Wendell’s biological father turns out to be involved in something very dangerous, Zeeta wonders whether she’ll ever get the chance to tell her mom how she really feels—or to enjoy her deepening feelings for Wendell.

Praise for Red Glass:
*“A captivating read.”—School Library Journal, Starred

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780307579799
Publisher: Random House Audio Publishing Group
Publication date: 10/13/2009
Series: Laura Resau's Notebook Series , #1
Edition description: Unabridged
Product dimensions: 5.21(w) x 5.88(h) x 1.16(d)
Age Range: 10 - 14 Years

About the Author

Laura Resau lives with her husband, her dog, and her son in Colorado, where she teaches cultural anthropology and ESL (English as a Second Language). She is also the author of What the Moon Saw and Red Glass.

Read an Excerpt

Chapter 1

It’s always the same, no matter where in the world we happen to be. Just when I get used to noodle soup for breakfast in Laos, or endless glasses of supersweet mint tea in Morocco, or crazy little tuk tuk taxis in Thailand, Layla gets that look in her eyes, that faraway, wistful look, as though she’s squinting at a movie in the distance, and on the screen is a place more exotic, more dazzling, more spiritual than wherever we are.

On rainy hills, she dreams of parched desert drum rituals. On windswept islands, she yearns for ancient jungle secrets. On palm-treed beaches, she imagines sacred mountain water-falls. When her mind starts drifting off, our bodies and suitcases soon follow.

And here we are, Layla and me, on the last leg of a journey from Southeast Asia, our plane swimming in clouds above the Andes, hovering, once again, between homes.

The plane lurches like a spooked elephant. My hands clench my notebook, and my eyes flick back to the flight attendants to see if they’re in emergency mode. No, they’re stuffing sugar packets into a metal container, their faces calm under thick masks of makeup. In the window seat beside me, Layla sits cross-legged, flirting with the middle-aged guy in the aisle seat, both of them leaning across me.

Turbulence doesn’t faze Layla. She loves it, like a roller-coaster ride thrown in for free, that flutter in the stomach, that rush of adrenaline pulling her into the moment.

I click my seat belt shut and elbow her. “Hey, Layla, the seat belt light’s on.”

She shrugs. “Don’t worry so much, Zeeta, love.”

I reach across and fasten her seat belt. She kisses my temple and leans toward the flight attendant, her blond hair hanging like a curtain over my lap. “Red wine, please.”

Of course, the man insists on paying for her wine, pulling a few bills from a silver money clip with manicured fingers. He’s wearing khaki pants, a neatly tucked-in white cotton shirt, the sleeves carefully rolled up to reveal muscular forearms, and a silver watch. He looks like he stepped out of a magazine ad for something domestic. He’s the quintessential Handsome Magazine Dad, metallic blue eyes and a touch of distinguished gray at his temples. He’d be posed in a shiny stainless-steel kitchen, casually flipping a pancake while his younger wife and daughter smile at the table, as if they’ve been caught midjoke.

I wonder what he thinks of Layla: a cute, disheveled hippie chick in a slightly see-through cotton wraparound skirt tucked over her knees, with her bare toes peeking out. She’s almost thirty-five but looks twenty-five. She always smells of sweet sweat and essential oils, whatever scent addresses her chakra deficiency that day. Today she’s chosen a citrusy smell, something bright and tart.

I used to wish for a Handsome Magazine Dad, but I’ve pretty much given up by this point. Every year in a different country. Fifteen years, fifteen countries, well over fifteen boyfriends for Layla. Fifteen dozen maybe, one for each month. It’s way too late now for a normal home, normal family, normal childhood.

I open my latest notebook, indigo-colored, and ask the man, “What’s your full name?”

“Jeff Ryan.”

I jot that down and then write, Efficiency Consultant for Financial Institutions, which is apparently his job, whatever that is. “Jeff, if you had one wish, what would it be?”

Usually people ask why I’m asking, and usually I say, “So I can remember you,” which is true, and flatters them. But the real reason I’ve filled all these notebooks—a different color in every country—is deeper, buried inside me. It has something to do with wanting to figure out this thing called life, hoping that by sifting through other people’s wishes and memories and dreams, I can find the pieces I need to understand it.

“One wish?” he says, looking amused. His voice is warm and gravelly. “Honestly? To settle down.” He sips his wine, maybe deciding how much more to tell. “My girls are grown. My wife left me three years ago.” He lets out a breath. “I’m tired of the online dating scene in Virginia. I just want my life back to normal.”

I jot down his answer, feeling wistful. To settle down. Normal.

Before I can move on to more questions, he shrugs off the sadness that’s crept into his voice. “So”—he grins at Layla—“you lovely ladies on vacation?”

“Our life is a vacation!” Layla’s extra-giddy since we’re between places. “Phuket last year. Off the coast of Thailand. Now I’ll be teaching English in Otavalo.” She clicks her plastic cup against his and sips. “Cheers!”

Just hearing her mention Phuket makes me ache. In Thailand, I’d woven myself into life in our beach town. I savored my routines—walking through the noisy market, riding my bike down a jungly dirt road, taking morning swims with friends, eating coconut sticky rice wrapped in banana leaves.

I glance across the aisle, out the window, where there’s nothing but pure white mist. And a boy staring into it. He looks about my age, maybe a year or two older. Sixteen? Seven-teen? His skin is just a shade darker than mine, tea without any milk swirled in, and his hair the same as mine, long and black and pulled into a braid. He could be an Otavaleño Indian, a descendent of the Inca. I’ve seen them on street corners all over the world in ponchos, playing pan flutes.

The flight attendant leans toward him, a mauve, lip-lined smile pasted on her face. “¿Señor, algo para tomar?”

He knits his eyebrows. Finally, he speaks, stumbling over his words. “Quiero—quiero—” he says with a heavy accent and an edge of desperation.

Strange. Maybe he only speaks Quichua.

“Orange juice, please,” he finishes in American English. Reaching for the juice, he catches my eye and blushes.

Layla, meanwhile, is on a roll with her captive audience. “This whole region is overflowing with sacred waters. There’s a waterfall that grants your wishes. . . .” She has that look in her eyes now, the mouthwatery look that some people get over chocolate cake.

Jeff nods, looking enraptured. When Layla pauses, he jumps in. “You know, you’re refreshing. Different.” He pulls out a business card from another silver clip. “Let me take you out to dinner. I’m based at banks in Quito for a month, but I’ll be making some visits to a branch in Otavalo.”

Without glancing at the card, Layla tucks it into the waist of her skirt, showing a peek of hips tanned caramel on Phi Phi Island, a short boat ride from our home in Phuket. “Thanks.”

She’ll never call him, and not just because she’s against phones. He’s just someone to charm for a few hours. For a sustained effort of a few weeks or even days, the guy has to be young, unshaven, shaggy-haired, and extremely irresponsible—like her most recent ex-boyfriend, a wandering, dreadlocked artist clown who sold shell jewelry on the beach.

Jeff flashes me his model smile, his teeth unearthly white, probably from a fresh tooth-bleaching strip. “You could come along too. Are you two traveling buddies?”

I smile, trying to swallow the jaded been-there-done-that feeling. “I’m Layla’s daughter.”

Customer Reviews

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The Indigo Notebook 4.4 out of 5 based on 0 ratings. 17 reviews.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is one very good book and I cant wait to read the others!!!! Although i would give it 5 stars if the story had a bit more of plot twists.... other than that it is perfect!!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Amazing book! Very very interesting!!
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
This is the most amazing book ever! It is inspireing, sweet, with a simplebtouch of sweet pure love!!! I suggest this book to anyone who is interested in different coultures with thrill to it. Very easy yet fun read... kept me in the edge of my seat!!! My rating shows 5 stars but its really my way of saying 1,000,000!!! And that goes for the other two books in the series And i dont just give any book a rating if 1,000,000(:
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Hard to read at first, then got really good. I'd definitely recommend it.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
The middle and the ending were really good, since the begining was kinda slow.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
Though plot of the story was boring and not very interesting, there were very good twists, which makes for a good read.
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Maertel More than 1 year ago
Though not compelling reading like RED GLASS, The Indigo Notebook has many fun plot twists, despite the recursive Mommy angst. The major reason for not highly recommending it is the truly horrible guinea pig eating. For many of us who have loved our little pig pets, this was a deal-breaker for caring about the rest of the book and its main character. What's next - eating cats and dogs in China? Very sad inclusion in an otherwise intriguing plot.
Anonymous More than 1 year ago
TeensReadToo More than 1 year ago
At fifteen, Zeeta's life as been anything but ordinary. In those fifteen years, she has lived in fifteen different countries with her flighty single mother, Layla. To document her many experiences and the interesting people she has met along the way, Zeeta keeps a journal. Each journal is a different color to symbolize the country she was living in at the time. This year, she's in Ecuador, where she first meets Wendell, an American boy in search of the birth family he's never known. When she promises to aid him on his quest, she isn't fully aware of what she is agreeing to. Together, they will depart on a journey full of magic and self-discovery as they begin to fall for one another, leading them to realizations that will change their lives forever. Laura Resau presents her readers with a unique plot and a memorable cast of characters, creating an unforgettable read. Zeeta is a strong, independent protagonist who many girls will aspire to be like, and with good reason. Infused with the local language as well as Ecuador's rich culture, THE INDIGO NOTEBOOK is a treasure in its own right.
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akamona29 More than 1 year ago
I found this book to be very interesting. This book is about a fifteen year old girl named Zeeta. She lives in a different country every year with her English teaching mom, Layla. Zeeta really wants to have a normal life. This year, Zeeta finds herself in the Ecuadoran Andes, where sacred waterfalls grant wishes and old Incan gods are in the mountains. Wendell, asks Zeeta to help him search for his birth parents. Wendell is an American teenager. I think this book was very well plotted. Other books I would like to read by this author are the queen of water, the ruby notebook, star in the forest, red glass, and what the moon saw. I think Laura Resau is a really good author and I can't wait to read her other books! I would really recommend this book to a friend because I think they should understand how great this book is. In the beginning while I was reading this book it seemed boring, but then when i kept on reading it a fabulous book.