Tara Gilboy - Unwritten

Unwritten 2018 by Tara Gilboy. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever, including Internet usage, without written permission from Jolly Fish Press, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

First Edition

First Printing, 2018

Book design by Jake Slavik

Cover design by Jake Slavik

Cover illustration by Jomike Tejido

Jolly Fish Press, an imprint of North Star Editions, Inc.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Gilboy, Tara, author.

Title: Unwritten / Tara Gilboy.

Description: First edition. | Mendota Heights, Minnesota : Jolly Fish Press, [2018] | Summary: Twelve-year-old storybook character Gracie Freeman lives in the real world but longs to discover what happened in the story she

came from.

Identifiers: LCCN 2018020898 (print) | LCCN 2018030936 (ebook) | ISBN 9781631631788 (ebook) | ISBN 9781631631771 (pbk. : alk. paper)

Subjects: | CYAC: Characters in literatureFiction. | Parent and childFiction. | AuthorsFiction. | Books and readingFiction. | LCGFT: Fantasy fiction. | Fiction.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.G552 (ebook) | LCC PZ7.1.G552 Un 2018 (print) | DDC [Fic]dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018020898

Jolly Fish Press

North Star Editions, Inc.

2297 Waters Drive

Mendota Heights, MN 55120

www.jollyfishpress.com

Printed in the United States of America

For Samantha, Julie, and Rita, who always believed in me

Chapter 1

A lways, for as long as she could recall, Gracie had the memory of fire.

It descended on her even now as she sat in her seventh-grade science class, swooping in out of nowhere as she hunched over her textbook. It wasnt a true memoryshed never been in a fire, after allbut it felt real. The images came in flashes: the flicker of sparks, dark spots that moved, smokelike, lurking in the corners. Her skin burned hot, and she felt flushed.

Story glimmers, Mom had explained. Glimpses of things that wouldve happened if we hadnt escaped Bondoff. It doesnt matter what was written in that terrible book, it didnt come true. Youre safe now. Just push the visions awaytheyre not real.

But Gracie rarely experienced a story glimmer this intensely, at least not when she was awake. Most of the time the glimmers were like spotting something out of the corner of her eyethe glare of flames reflected in a windowpane. Usually it was only in her dreams that she smelled the smoke, sensed the heat, and she found herself once again torn between curiosity and fear.

Are you ill? a voice said beside her.

Gracie turned. Walter watched her from behind glasses smudged with fingerprints because he was always shoving them up on his nose. He reminded Gracie of a plump owl.

Im fine. Gracie wiped sweat from her forehead and fought the irritation that always crept over her when she was around Walter. They had once been friends, when they were very young. That was nearly eight years ago now, but if Gracie looked closely, she could still make out the pearly outline of the scar beneath Walters right eye where she had struck him.

Gracie was about to turn back to her homework when a red paper flyer slid from between the pages of Walters book and fluttered to the floor. Gracie bent to pick it up and froze. Across the top, bold, black letters spelled the name Gertrude Winters.

Why do you have this? The paper quivered in her fingers. Had Walters parents finally told him the truth about the story, who they were?

Walter crooked his arm around the book he was reading. I know Im supposed to be reading the textbook, he said. But I already finished the chapter yesterday, and I got this new book about dark matter last night. Its fascinating. Did you know

Not the book. This. Gracie thrust the flyer onto his desk.

Walter turned it over in his hand and shrugged. The woman at the bookstore stuck it in my bag. Ive been using it as a bookmark.

Are you going?

Where?

To see Gertrude Winters.

Walter blinked. I dont read fiction. Its kind of a waste of time, dont you think? I read science books and

Gertrude Winters is not a waste of time! For a moment, Gracie had let herself hope that shed have someone besides Mom to talk to about Gertrude Winters and the glimmers. Shes brilliant! Shes Gracies cheeks burned. The classroom was fading, replaced by the sharp snap of flames. The tang of smoke seared the back of her throat. Not now. She gripped the edge of her desk so tightly her knuckles turned white, willing the vision away. The glimmers were worse when her temper flared, and she counted silently to ten, which was what Mom told her to do when she was angry.

You can have itWalter held the flyer out to herif you like this Winters person so much.

Gracie shoved the flyer into her folder.

Are you sure youre not sick? Walter said.

Its just Gracie paused. Do you ever feel funny, like you remember things that didnt really happen?

Walter shrugged. Its likely neurons misfiring in the brain and triggering the sensation of memory. Thats how dj vu works.

Not dj vu. More like

Or it could be a sign of mental illness, Walter continued. Or a vivid dream. Or

Never mind. The bell rang, and, disappointed, Gracie gathered her books and hurried to lunch, leaving Walter mid-sentence.

You got this from Walter?

Gracie sat at the kitchen table later that night. Her mother stood at the counter, clutching the flyer, one hip cocked, honey-colored curls tumbling around her shoulders. Her face wore the pinched, splotchy look that meant she was angry.

Dont worry. Gracie pulled a thread from the tablecloth. I didnt tell him anything.

But why did he have it?

He said it came in a book he bought. Who cares why he had it? I think we should go see her.

Mom crumpled the flyer. Absolutely not.

Im not saying we have to talk to her. Gracie stared at the flyer, wrinkled in Moms fist. Mom had set her mouth in a hard line, and Gracie could feel her hopes slipping away. Its the perfect opportunity to see her in person. She wont know who we are if we sit in the audience and listen.

She might recognize us. Mom stuffed the flyer into the trashcan and thumped a jar of pickled eggs onto the counter.

She wrote words; its not like she has our photographs.

And what if Cassandras watching her, huh? Just watching and waiting to see if we try to contact Gertrude Winters? What if Cassandra was able to find us? I dont want to have anything to do with Gertrude Winters. I dont understand why youre so fascinated with her. Mom slammed pots around as she got the water boiling for potatoes. Mom always started banging things when she talked about Gertrude Winters.

But

Im not going to discuss this anymore. Its for your own good.

Gracie blinked back tears of frustration. Why cant we at least talk about it? You wont even listen to my side.

You dont get a side in this. Im the parent. I make the decisions.

What I want matters, too! The room grew hotter, a burned smell in the air. Gracie took a breath, balled the edge of the tablecloth in her fist, and focused on keeping her voice level as she said, Arent you even a little curious about what she wrote?