Lilliam Rivera - Never Look Back

PRAISE FOR

NEVER LOOK BACK

A PURA BELPR HONOR BOOK
AN INDIE NEXT LIST PICK

A revitalized and layered retelling that expertly blends reality and fantasy to explore whats behind love and loss, what it takes to heal.
Randy Ribay, author of National Book Award Finalist Patron Saints of Nothing

Haunting and richly detailed, this is a beautiful re-imagining that will hurt and heal, sometimes on the same page.
Mark Oshiro, author of Anger Is a Gift

Never Look Back reimagines the Orpheus myth into a bold creation that only Lilliam Rivera could breathe into life. A strange, unsettling love song of a book.
Elana K. Arnold, Printz Honorwinning author of Damsel

One of YAs most exciting emerging voices.
Entertainment Weekly

Never Look Back sings its own love song to the world.
NPR

At turns beautiful and heart-breaking, Never Look Back is a timely reimagining of a timeless tale.
Refinery29

* Seamlessly blends Caribbean and Greek myth into a contemporary teen novel, exploring realistic aspects of identity, stereotypes, trauma, and romance.
SLJ , starred review

* A book not to be read with the mind but to be experienced with the soul. It is a revelation.
BookPage , starred review

[Rivera] showcases her masterful grasp of setting, integrating the complexities of the modern day with the gauzy haze of ancient myth through a slow, careful unveiling.
Booklist

Rivera masterfully intertwines ancient and modern lore, leaving readers gasping for breath by the authentic but satisfying conclusion.
Shelf Awareness

To music,
for always saving my life

Books by Lilliam Rivera

Never Look Back

We Light Up the Sky

CONTENTS

Inflamd by love, and urgd by deep despair, he leaves the realms of light, and upper air

METAMORPHOSESBY OVID, TRANSLATED BY SIR SAMUEL GARTH, JOHN DRYDEN, ET AL.

If God one day struck me blind,

Your beauty Id still see.

ADORE, PRINCE

If its a Saturday, then two things are true. First, trains heading uptown will forever be late, no matter what. Deadass. Its as if the MTA decides anyone going past 125th Street must not be worth the trouble. So what if you thought the train you got on downtown was an express 5? It doesnt matter. Right now, its a local. No, wait, scratch that. Right now the train youve been chilling on for the past half hour has decided to not even enter the Boogie Down. Who cares if you have things to do? Trains heading uptown are bound to be cut off. Its like living back in the Middle Ages, when people thought the world was flat. The Bronx is like that for most people who dont live there: the end of the world, the last frontier, the Whatever. If its a Saturday, you are destined to do the MTA shuffle, where you figure out how best to make it to your destination.

Youve got to wait for the four or transfer to the bus, says the conductor. I wonder how many times hes had to explain this. He gives me the shrug. I give him the shrug back. What else is there to do? Its Saturday morning, and Im bound to be late no matter how early I am.

Moms hounded me last night right in the middle of my writing session. I had the dopest hook for this new song. It sounds a little like Romeo Santoss Imitadora, but way more sensual. I already have the first verse down. Its got the perfect combination the girls likea little vulnerability, a little roughness. Throw in some Spanish, and its de lo mo. This summer is going to be me working on this new song until it feels right. Shine them words until they glisten like gold.

Pero dnde tengo que ir? An old lady sitting across from me talks to herself. I feel bad. Who knows how long shes been planning this excursion?

Tienes que ir afuera y tomar la guagua, o puedes esperar aqu por el cuatro, I say. She does a slight double take; its subtle, but I notice it. Some people see my skin color and think, He must be Black . I am. Im also Dominican. Im the best of both worlds. Just ask Melaina and all them girls uptown Im about to smash this summer.

The old lady thanks me for helping her figure out how to get to her stop. I start my own journey and head above ground with the rest of the sad passengers. Sometimes I wish I drove a car, blasting AC and my own music. A summer with wheels. Why cant I be about that life? I strap my guitar to my back and head out.

The second truth is, no matter the time, the sun will greet you with a diablo, hoy te mato de calor.

Its not even officially summer, and this viejo standing next to me on this packed bus is dripping sweat. El viejo decides to provide his own musical accompaniment. He turns up the volume on the song playing on his phone. I recognize the tune right away. Its a song my pops likes to play when hes feeling melancholy. Donde Estar by Antony Santos.

Pops taught me to sing that song when I was six. It didnt matter where we were. In front of the apartment building where I grew up. The park. At the beach. After a few Presidentes he would inevitably hoist me up on his shoulders, and I would sing. This was when my parents were together, before she kicked him out and he headed back uptown to be with his people. I feel sad, too, whenever I hear the song. A reminder of the fam when we were a fam and not this disjointed thing.

Yo, Pheus!

As soon as my right foot hits the pavement on my popss block, I hear from one of my boys. Its Jaysen. He holds a large cooler.

Getting ready? I ask after giving him the dap.

I met Jaysen seven years ago when we were about ten. It was my first summer with Pops after the separation, and he was depressed. He didnt want to do anything, just stare at the wall and listen to boleros 24-7. I couldnt take it, so I headed to the handball courts, bored out of my mind. Jaysen was the only boy my age out there. I acted aloof until Jaysen asked if I wanted to play. We spent the whole summer beating all them suckers. His father works for the Department of Parks and Rec like my father did before he got on disability.

You coming, right? Jaysen asks. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to squash the heat. His latest tattoo on his arm is the Puerto Rican independence flag. Its coming in nicely.

Definitely. First trip to Orchard, I say. Not missing it for the world. Im probably going to be

Late. Bro, you always late, Jaysen says. Isnt that Penelope?

I turn to follow his gaze.

Yo, Penelope! Ive known Penelope for as long as Ive known Jaysen. She lives in the same building as my pops. Penelope is smart and funny. Shes definitely wifey material.

Penelope pulls luggage from the trunk of her parents car. I cant really make out who shes with. I guess its family.

We seeing you today? Jaysen asks. Am I right? Youre not missing it? Huh, Penelope?

Jaysens been bugging everyone via text, making sure we show up. He is relentless. Sometimes I have to tell him to chill the hell out. It never really works, though. Hes a hype man when no one really needs one.

Cant you see Im busy? Penelope screams back. Ill see you tomorrow. Maybe.

Penelope turns to the car and holds the door open. A girl about our age steps out. She has a thick curtain of long, coily hair that practically engulfs her. Ive never seen her before. Penelope hugs the girl, and they walk into the building.