Chapters (47)
- Title Page
- Copyright Notice
- Dedication
- Epigraphs
- Prologue
- Part One
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- Part Two
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Newsletter Sign-up
“I think I busted my ankle.”
Suddenly Ann started laughing. Her laughter was music, a wave to ride. Why didn’t Ann laugh more? Poppy loved her sister when she laughed. She’d never loved Ann more than she did at that very moment. She was so tough, keeping this kid. She was in a different league.
“What’s funny?” her dad asked.
“Just look at us. One of your kids is missing, the other is a burnout, and I’m a teenage mom. Great job, you guys!”
A nurse who’d been standing in the corner tried to hide her smile. Soon they were all laughing, and for a moment Poppy felt her family was complete again even with Michael gone. It was a feeling that wouldn’t last.
Part Two
Milwaukee Journal-Sentinel
AUGUST 20, 2015
LOCAL COUPLE KILLED IN AUTOMOBILE CRASH OUTSIDE TOLEDO
According to the Lucas County sheriff, a local Milwaukee couple traveling on I-90 through Toledo were involved in an early-morning accident when an inattentive semi driver crossed lanes and hit their vehicle head-on. The couple, Edward and Connie Gordon of Milwaukee, were en route to Wisconsin from Massachusetts, where they’d spent the summer. Connie Gordon was pronounced dead at the scene. Edward Gordon was rushed to a local hospital, where he died. The driver of the semi, Charles Radtke of Orlando, Florida, was also pronounced dead at the scene.
Edward Gordon taught history at Riverside High School. Connie Gordon was retired.
“This is just devastating,” said Dawn Marks, a former colleague of Connie Gordon’s. “They made that trip to Cape Cod every year.”
EIGHTEEN
Poppy
Surfing used to be enough. Poppy once felt she was part of an epic, worldwide search for the best swells on the most perfect beach in a prized, undiscovered location. Nothing quite compared to the thrill of a jet taking off (especially when she was sleeping with a Hawaiian Air pilot who gave her free buddy passes) and the intoxicating sensation of living a life that was always changing, always moving. Newness was like a drug for her. As soon as she’d memorized the street names and got to know the locals in any given place, it was time to take off again.
Poppy started out in Central America; from there, she went all over. She’d surfed J-Bay, Pavones, Witch’s Rock, and Uluwatu. There wasn’t much thought or logic to where she’d go. If her friends were heading somewhere interesting and she could make it work, she’d pack her giant backpack and join them, staying only as long as it took to make enough “go” money.