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Marianna Baer - The Inconceivable Life of Quinn

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Marianna Baer The Inconceivable Life of Quinn
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The Inconceivable Life of Quinn: summary, description and annotation

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Quinn Cutler is sixteen and the daughter of a high-profile Brooklyn politician. Shes also pregnant, a crisis made infinitely more shocking by the fact that she has no memory of ever having sex. Before Quinn can solve this deeply troubling mystery, her story becomes public. Rumors spread, jeopardizing her reputation, her relationship with a boyfriend she adores, and her fathers campaign for Congress. Religious fanatics gather at the Cutlers home, believing Quinn is a virgin, pregnant with the next messiah. Quinns desperate search for answers uncovers lies and family secretsstrange, possibly supernatural ones. Might she, in fact, be a virgin?..M.F

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

Cataloging-in-Publication Data has been applied for and may be obtained from the Library of Congress.
ISBN: 978-1-4197-2302-5
eISBN: 978-1-68335064-4

Text copyright 2017 Marianna Baer
Cover and book design by Alyssa Nassner
Cover illustration 2017 by Christopher Silas Neal

Published in 2017 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.

Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact specialsales@abramsbooks.com or the address below.


ABRAMS The Art of Books
115 West 18th Street, New York, NY 10011
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FOR BECKY AND BOOG WITH LOVE Where there is mystery it is generally supposed - photo 1

FOR BECKY AND BOOG, WITH LOVE

Where there is mystery, it is generally supposed that there must also be evil .

Lord Byron

Memory is a mirror that scandalously lies .

Julio Cortzar

THE DEEPS

a childrens book by Charlotte Lowell

A still morning sea, the Deeps all asleep , til warmed by the sun they roll up the beach .

Some glide with a shush, some crash with a ROAR, All eager to find what night left on shore .

Clamshells and starfish, smooth sea glass and stones .

Pieces of driftwood, washed pale as our bones .

Further and further, they draw up the sand , Daring young Deeps, out exploring the land .

And looksomeones here. Its you, come to swim!

You kick off your shoes, run quick, and plunge in .

Hooray! cheer the Deeps, while lifting you high .

Lets play! you call out, now splashing the sky .

They tumble and toss you, upside and down .

You flip, flop and float, no feet on the ground .

The games go for hours, as happens with friends .

A magical day that you hope never ends .

But after some time, a voice calls your name .

The Deeps feel a pull from back where they came .

They slip out to sea, you wave a farewell , From two different worlds, one story to tell .

1978, Southaven Press

QUINN There was an ocean in her bedroom Brooklyn steamed with the thick heat - photo 2

QUINN

There was an ocean in her bedroom.

Brooklyn steamed with the thick heat of late August, and while Quinn had started her day off in the backyard hammock, book in one hand and phone in the other, it was soon too much of an effort to even turn the page or type a word. So shed retreated inside, where she was now lying on a beach towel, eyes closed, misting herself with water as cold as the Atlantic. The distant traffic on Prospect Park West echoed the rhythmic shush and roar of waves. The salty sweat above her lip tasted like the sea. She was floating away... when the waves were interrupted by the ring of the doorbell and the familiar muted thumps of Jesse taking the stairs up to her room two at a time.

Quinn smiled but kept her eyes closed, too relaxed to open them quite yet.

Footsteps approached. The air above her stirred and shadowed, and Jesses soft lips touched her own. She ran fingers through his hair and pulled his sweet coffee-flavored kiss even closer, a different type of heat sparking inside her. He had warned her that the visit was only a flyby, though. So, after a moment, sensing they were about to pause for a breath, she lifted her other hand and sprayed.

Jesse jumped back, face dripping with water, and said with a sputtering laugh, What the heck, Q?

Just cooling us down, Quinn said, sitting up and grinning.

He shook his head to one side, sandy-brown hair flicking out in shaggy damp spikes. Thanks. My ear canal was way overheated.

I live to serve. She bowed slightly.

The water apparently dislodged, he sat on the floor next to her and stretched out his long legstan, bug-bitten, and with a few scratches and bruises from a summer of hiking and ultimate Frisbee. Seriously, though, he said, know what would really cool you down?

Iced coffee? Quinn reached toward the plastic cup in his hand. He gave it to her.

Camping. Its supposed to be thirty-eight degrees up there tonight. Thirty-eight! Were going to freeze our asses off.

Dont rub it in. She took a sip, the coffees sweetness dulled by the fact that she was about to spend the long weekend before school started without him. You guysll be making smores and Ill be making small talk with strangers.

So come, he said, nudging her.

You know I cant.

I could kidnap you.

My dad has friends in law enforcement. Youd get in trouble.

Sadie could kidnap you. Shes going to end up in jail someday, anyway.

Ha. Quinn rested her head against his shoulder. Its not just the campaign party. I have a check-up with my new doctor today, and I picked up shifts this weekend and Monday... Puttin the labor in Labor Day. She gave an anemic fist pump.

But Ill have to share a tent with Adrian and Oliver instead of you, he groaned. Its tragic.

Shakespearian, she agreed. Hey, whats that? A light blue shopping bag sat on the floor near his feet, partly hidden by scattered laundry.

Oh. Your mom gave it to me downstairs. Something for you to wear tonight. He scooted the bag closer with his foot. The movement flexed his leg muscles and Quinn had to resist an urge to lean over and kiss the freckle between his right knee and the bottom of his shorts. She said you should try it on. Its a size zero but the saleslady said it runs big.

Quinn handed back the coffee and pulled a crisp, tissue paperwrapped packet out of the bag.

Size zero, he mused as she unwrapped it. Doesnt it give you an existential crisis? Like youre not really here?

If Im not really here, youre the one we need to worry about, babe. She held up an oyster-white, gauzy cotton dress with a flared skirt and a pattern of delicate gold and silver seed beads around a halter-style neckline. Not something shed have chosenher favorite dresses were as close to Tshirts, hoodies, or flannel button-downs as possible. But it was pretty and she was grateful not to have to worry about what to wear.

Be right back. She pushed herself up and slipped into the tiny adjoining room that was used both as her closet and for storage. (If shed started disrobing in the room with Jesse, it would have guaranteed her little sister would burst in the door; Lydia had an uncanny sense for barging in at the wrong time.) She took off her shorts, tank, and bra, stepped into the dress, tied the halter strap behind her neck, and twisted her arm around to zip up. She could only move the zipper a couple of inches, though, so she went back out for help.

Jesse was standing, staring out the window. Have you ever noticed that that pigeon is always outside my room? he said.

Quinn peered across their backyards at his apartment building and watched the bird bob its way along the window ledge. Let her in sometime. See what she wants.

I doubt she wants the slobbery affection of a giant mutt.

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