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Informationen zum Autor Laura Silverman (she/her) is the author of Girl Out of Water , You Asked for Perfect , Recommended for You, and Those Summer Nights . She is also the editor and contributor of It's a Whole Spiel , Up All Night , and Game On . Girl Out of Water was a Junior Library Guild selection, and You Asked for Perfect was named to best teen fiction lists by YALSA, Chicago Public Library, and the Georgia Center for the Book. Laura has also been a freelance editor for several years. Klappentext A collection of sixteen stories spanning different genres and styles, each capturing the big emotions--confusion, joy, uneasiness, and anticipation--that many teens experience as they grow up. Leseprobe The First Time I Dated a Vampire by Julian Winters I’m certain of two things: I’m ready for this summer trip to end, and one more night in Santa Monica won’t change that. “Tyrell? We’re here.” I blink out of a daze. It happens a lot lately. Moments where I’m anywhere but the present. I jerk to face my mom, the seat belt strap digging into my neck at the sudden movement. “What?” Through the windshield, ribbons of gold from fairy lights hung outside glow across Mom’s face. We look alike. Warm brown skin with reddish undertones. Smallish noses and long necks. But my curls—kept short with the sides of my head faded—aren’t hers. Neither is my bow-shaped mouth or awkward limbs. Those are all Dad. Are? Were? How do you describe something you inherited from a parent who’s now dead? These days, I’d prefer not to discuss him. Mom hasn’t gotten the message yet. She smiles wearily. “Do you really want to spend your last night watching a movie?” “Yes.” “We’ve been here a month. You’ve barely seen the city. Only the walls of the house we’re renting and . . .” Mom gestures to the building across the street. Reagan’s Cinema is a movie theater with old-school vibes: red-velvet-upholstered bucket seats. A giant marquee lit up in neon green and red. Big block letters advertising FRIDAY NIGHT CLASSICS PRESENTS . . . TWILIGHT! “Is that really a classic?” Mom whines. “I’m so old.” I don’t comment. “I’m surprised you haven’t seen it yet,” she continues. “You’re so obsessed with supernatural things. Your dad loved vampires, too.” “I don’t want to see the city,” I tell her, quickly avoiding the topic of Dad. “This is fine.” “Ty,” she says, cupping my cheek, “there’s so much to experience here.” She talks like she hasn’t lived in Decatur, Georgia, where we’re from, her whole life. As if this isn’t the first time for both of us in Santa Monica, where my dad grew up. She’s clinging to the brittle memories of who Dad was. Ever since they lowered his body into the ground 182 days ago, I’ve been pretending none of this is happening. “Rumor has it”—Mom wiggles her eyebrows—“there are tons of cute guys around your age. Maybe you can—” “Ugh.” I scramble to unbuckle the seat belt strangling my flushed neck. “No, thanks. Just the movie.” Before I can leap out into oncoming traffic, Mom’s coral pink nails, which match her sundress, dig into my forearm. She’s truly embracing the California aesthetic. Me? Scuffed Vans, black joggers, and a Rick and Morty graphic tee. Fitting in feels pointless. “No curfew tonight.” Mom’s lips gentle into a grin. “Stay out after the movie.” When I blink, she quickly corrects: “Within reason. You’re seventeen. College is around the corner, and—” She pauses, clearing her throat. “Give yourself the chance to fall in love with this place.” I ignore the urge to roll my eyes. “Mom—” “Do you have the list?” The one she AirDropped to my phone the seco...
