"Poignant. Thoughtful. Heartbreaking and heart-mending. A careful exploration of how children often pay the price for their parents' mistakes. The Fall of Grace is Amy Fellner Dominy's best writing yet."-Erin Jade Lange, author of Rebel, Bully, Geek, Pariah
Grace's junior year is turning into her best year yet. She's set to make honor roll, her print from photography class might win a national contest, and her crush just asked her to prom.
Then the bottom falls out. News breaks that the investment fund her mom runs is a scam and her mother is a thief. Now, instead of friends, the FBI is at her door. Grace is damaged goods.
Millions of dollars are unaccounted for, and everyone wants to know where all the money went. Can she find it and clear her mother's name?
The key to repairing her shattered life seems to lie in a place deep in the wilderness, and Grace sets out, her identity hidden, determined to find it.
But she isn't alone.
Sam Rivers, a mysterious loner from school, is on her trail and wants to know exactly what secrets she uncovers. As the pair travels into the wilds, Grace realizes she must risk everything on the dark, twisted path to the truth.
Praise for The Fall of Grace:
"The Fall of Grace is heart-rending and real; readers will laugh and weep as they follow Grace's journey of anger, guilt, betrayal, love, and the different layers of forgiveness. The emotional turmoil is almost abrasively raw, and yet so believable. In a culture of call-outs and finger pointing, this is a book for anyone who has stood accused."Aprilynne Pike #1 New York Times Bestselling author of Wings and Glitter
"Clever plot construction,...romance, and Grace's realistic emotional roller coaster will appeal to fans of Sarah Dessen."-Booklist
"Quick-paced...[The Fall of Grace] features a satisfyingly unexpected and realistic ending that will likely surprise readers."-Kirkus Reviews
"Dominy writes with raw emotion, exploring the impact of revealed family secrets through the lens of a daughter's fierce love."-Publishers Weekly
"Grace is engaging and sympathetic...[and] her observations ring true, as does the dialogue....The vivid descriptions and tension of the story will pull readers in, and the conclusion will leave them satisfied. With adventure, mystery, and romance, the story will appeal to a broad audience."-VOYA
"A blend of suspense and adventure with a romance....[The Fall of Grace is] a story of soul-searching, self-discovery, and eventual maturity."-SLJ
"[Dominy] frankly explore[s] the limits of guilt and responsibility, and what they [the characters] can and can't do in terms of restitution for past sins and moving forward."Bulletin
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|Publisher:||Random House Children's Books|
|Product dimensions:||5.80(w) x 8.40(h) x 1.10(d)|
|Age Range:||12 - 17 Years|
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
An awning stretches above the doors to the bus terminal, blocking the sun but doing nothing to stop the sweltering heat. It’s a struggle to breathe, the hot air trapped and unmoving.
Someone bumps my shoulder and I turn, tightening my hold on my backpack. But it’s someone in a hurry who doesn’t even stop. No one here knows who I amI remind myself of this as my breath calms. I’m not breaking a law by being here. I’ve been “asked” to remain in Phoenix. I’ve been “cautioned” and “advised” and “strongly encouraged.”
My new hiking boots take me into the bus terminal. They’re Salomons and not new at all. I bought them at Goodwill this morning. I would have been squeamish beforeused shoes? Please. But now I congratulate myself on my ten-dollar find. The fitted black tee and dark green pants are my ownbought for a trip to Paris and made of breathable, movable fabric with pockets down the leg. I’m a long way from Paris, but they’ll do. A white hooded jacket with wind protection is in the pack. It can get cold where I’m going, even in August.
The bus terminal is nicer than I expected. Clean and well lit. There are black mesh benches that run in a line down the center of the airy space where people are sitting, bags under their legs, and kids lying on their moms’ laps. It’s noisy the way it is at the airporta wave of sound that conveys nothing but carries you along. The kind of noise you can disappear into.
Rhodeways Bus Company flashes from a huge neon sign. Departure times are listed on a blue screen below. Mine flickers near the bottom. departure: 3:05 p.m.
I adjust the hat lower over my forehead. It’s a seafoam-green ball cap with Mickey Mouse on the brim. I bought it on a birthday trip with Cecily two years ago. We were being idiots, wearing our mouse ears everywhere and waiting an hour for pictures with Tigger. The trip was a surprise from Momeverything taken care of, including this hat. I am a thief in this hat. One more reminder, not that I need it.
If only my memories could be sold off like everything else.
I move through the main floor, hoping to outdistance my thoughts. My bus will be leaving from the north end of the terminal and I head for the far bank of ticket windows. Out of habit, I scan the crowd, but no one recognizes me. I hardly recognize myself.
Grace Marie Pierce.
Even the name sounds like someone I used to know. A Golden Girl. The cherished face of the Family Fund and pure embodiment of the American dream: money, security, hope. A face that, in the past three months, has been spat on, slapped, and even one night, hit with a raw egg.
I fall into line at the first ticket window and take one more look around. The people who travel here do not travel in my world. There’s a group of rowdy guysmost of them in ASU teestossing a Nerf football. A family is crowded on the far bench, the mother passing out sandwiches wrapped in baggies like my mom used to do. A figure in a blue hoodie and faded jeans is slouched against the wall. As I look, he turns away, the fabric of his hood completely blocking his face. I remind myself I’m not the only one with a reason to hide.
Maybe that man is looking for answers, too. Maybe he’ll find what he wants at the end of his bus trip and maybe so will I. It’s possible. Anything is possible. I shuffle forward.
Am I really allowing myself to hope? Am I really that stupid?
Then it’s my turn. I speak into the grate at the bottom of the window. “One ticket to Ridgway, Colorado.”
A man with tired eyes and sloped shoulders nods. “Round trip?”
I hesitate. I have to swallow before I can get the words out. “One way.” I slide $187 in cash through the window.
Some things you don’t come back from.