Introduction

Sixteen-year-old Reece is an expert at keeping secrets. She has to be, since her father abducted her ten years ago. For as long as she can remember, she’ s been on the run, sneaking food out of the dumpster and sleeping in the woods. Every time she moves, the same rules apply— cut your hair, change your name, and, above all, don’ t let anybody get too close. Reece has no choice except to obey Dad’ s orders. When Reece meets her first real friend, a boy named Shawn, she begins to realize that everyone else has secrets too. And the deadliest secret of all is the one her father has kept from her all these years.

“An exceptional novel with an original perspective on memory and trauma."—Foreword Reviews

"Reece's story--the action and the emotions--will break and remake your heart a hundred times over. I couldn't put it down."—Kirstin Cronn-Mills, author of RULES FOR CAMOUFLAGE

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Excerpt

Chapter One

When somebody moves out, they always leave stuff behind. If I’m lucky, it was there all along, waiting for me to find it.

Today I’m not so lucky.

Dad stands guard as I swing my leg over the Dumpster.

“Hustle up, Reece,” he says, glancing across the parking lot. “You hear me?”

“I’m hustling,” I mutter.

Traffic pounds the highway. All those cars are going where I can’t go—away from here. Right now “here” is the Surfside, which might be the dumbest name ever. You won’t find much surf in Miami.

The motel’s neon sign says, SWIMMING POOL, AIR CONDITIONING, ASK ABOUT OUR WEEKLY RATES. The so-called pool is clogged with dead leaves. Most of the time it’s empty. Unless it rains.

“Thanks, Dumpster gods,” I whisper, scooping a crumpled dollar out of a jeans pocket. I’m real good at finding money. No joke. I keep my head down everywhere I go, scanning the sidewalk for loose pennies. Money twitches like a living thing. It moves a certain way. Catches my eye with its quiet breathing.

Dad gives the signal, whistling through his teeth. Somebody’s coming. I hunch down a little lower. The Dumpster smells so freaking gross. As I tug the collar of my t-shirt over my nose, trying not to inhale the hot stink of rotten bananas, I hear Booth screaming his head off.

“I better not catch you stealing out of the trash.”

Booth is the freak in charge of this motel. He always wears a leather jacket bristling with patches, even if it’s a hundred degrees outside. “His light don’t reach the top floor,” Dad likes to say, tapping his forehead.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Booth yells.

“Just out for a walk,” Dad tells him.

“Yeah? Then start walking. You’re behind rent,” he says. “I could have you out tomorrow.”

“I’m working on it.”

“Work a little harder.” Booth slams his fist against the Dumpster and I flinch. It really sucks that he’s going on off on Dad. Still, I hold my breath. If he catches me stealing junk, I’m in big trouble.

After what seems like forever, Dad whistles again.

Back to work.

My legs are zombie-numb, squashed under a mound of garbage bags. Feels like clothes, judging by the lumpy shapes. I punch my fingers through the sun-baked plastic, rip open a bag and start digging.

It’s crazy, the stuff people throw away. I dig out a paperback and flip through the wrinkled pages. It’s one of those cheesy romance books with a half-naked dude on the cover. Doesn’t matter what it’s about. I’ll pretty much read anything. Who throws a book in the trash? Brain-dead idiots. That’s who.

The bag is full of kiddie stuff. A friendship bracelet, the kind you wear until it rots off. Pink sneakers and a denim jacket so small, I could probably sew it into a skirt. Too bad I’m not a fan of sewing. Or skirts.

Dad could probably sell most of this crap online. I’ll let him sort through this mess once we’re back in our motel room. I launch the Hefty bag over the edge of the Dumpster with a thunk. It’s weird that somebody tossed out all those baby clothes. They must’ve been hauling ass.

I didn’t know their names, but I remember the little girl and her dad. At least, I think he was her dad. Could’ve been her mom’s boyfriend or whatever. He used to sit on a milk crate in the parking lot and watch his kid zigzag between the cars. She’d scoop up bottle caps in her fist and carry them back like a prize.

“Wow, sweetie. That’s so beautiful,” he’d say, as if that bottle cap was worth a million dollars. She’d smile and go running off to find more. When she wasn’t looking, he’d toss them in the bushes.

“Hustle,” Dad shouts.

I pull myself out of the Dumpster. My legs are blotchy with scrapes and bruises. It feels like I’ll never be clean again. I glance across the parking lot. “Is he gone?”

“Yeah, Booth’s long gone. That was a close one.” Dad slings a garbage bag over his shoulder like a crackhead Santa. “Now let’s get out of here.”? As we carry our loot back to the motel, I peer into at the bushes. Sure enough, the bottle caps are scattered in the dirt. Their sharp edges glint in the sun, handfuls of silver and gold so bright, I can’t see the rust. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the publisher:

1. Reece yearns for freedom, but she also feels protective of her dad. He’s her only friend. But is he actually the “bad guy” in the story?

2. Why do you think he took Reece away from her mom?

3. Shawn and Reece come from very different worlds. What draws them together?

4. How does the South Florida setting connect to the book’s central themes?

5. Reece makes a difficult choice at the end of the book. What do you think are her reasons behind it?

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