Acknowledgments:
Id like to thank everyone on the Penguin/Razorbill teamyou all made this book look brilly. Special thanks to Ben Schrank and Gillian Levinson, who helped make Across the Universe into the book Id always intended it to be, but somehow didnt get on the page without their insightful edits, questions, and suggestions. Thanks also to Emily Romero, Erin Dempsey, Courtney Wood, and the rest of Penguin marketing, and to my amazingly talented designer, Natalie Sousa.
I couldnt have joined the team at Penguin without Merrilee Heifetz, who matched me with the perfect publisher, and I couldnt have done that without Jennifer Escott, who matched me with the perfect agent. Thank you both for guiding me through the world of publication with such enthusiasm!
The best part about being a writer is having writing friends. Robyn Campbell and Rebecca Carlson helped me hammer out the first draft of Across the Universe, Heather Zundel and Christina Farley helped me break it to pieces and write it back better, and Erin Anderson, PJ Hoover, and Christine Marciniak told me Across the Universe was finally done and I should just submit it already.
Ive spent most of my years in some school or another, but by far the best ones were the six I spent teaching literature at Burns High School. To all of my students: you were all my favorite. Special thanks to Charly White, who painted a picture of a fish on my podium and inspired the character Harley. Thanks also to my friend and fellow teacher Laura Parker and my friend (whos not a teacher and quite happy about it) Jennifer Randolph for supporting my writing career.
There are three people who always believed in me more than I did and who never once thought I wouldnt see my name on a book cover: my parents, Ted and JoAnne Graham, and my husband, Corwin Revis.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
AMY
THERES A SMUDGE OF PAINTREDAT THE EDGE OF THE hatch door. Harleys last mark.
Past the paint, past the bubble window, I stare at the stars. It looks like a lonely, cold place out there. I put my hands on either side of the window. Its a lonely, cold place in here, too.
I dont want to be alone, I whisper, and its not until the words are out there that I realize how true they are.
I sense more than see the tiniest movement of Elder behind me. He steps forward, hesitates, then reaches for my hand. I pull away.
Like Harley.
I stare resolutely ahead at the stars. I wonder if he would still be here if only hed reached toward us, instead of toward them.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath, but all I smell is metal. The life Id once known is forever gone. My air will never smell of summer or spring, real rain or snow.
I open my eyes and see the last thing Harley saw before he left us. Maybe the secret of the stars has nothing to do with being alone.
I reach behind me, and Elder is there. Like he always has been. He grabs my hand, but I shake loose.
Im not ready for that.
But ... if my life on Earth must end, let it end with a promise.
Let it end with hope.
I wrap my pinkie around his. He squeezes my finger, and this world doesnt feel so cold anymore.
Will you stay with me? I whisper.
Always.
AMY
DADDY SAID, LET MOM GO FIRST.
Mom wanted me to go first. I think it was because she was afraid that after they were contained and frozen, Id walk away, return to life rather than consign myself to that cold, clear box. But Daddy insisted.
Amy needs to see what its like. You go first, let her watch. Then she can go and Ill be with her. Ill go last.
You go first, Mom said. Ill go last.
But the long and the short of it is that you have to be naked, and neither of them wanted me to see either of them naked (not like I wanted to see them in all their nude glory, gross), but given the choice, itd be best for Mom to go first, since we had the same parts and all.
She looked so skinny after she undressed. Her collarbone stood out more; her skin had that rice-paper-thin, over-moisturized consistency old peoples skin has. Her stomacha part of her she always kept hidden under clothessagged in a wrinkly sort of way that made her look even more vulnerable and weak.
The men who worked in the lab seemed uninterested in my mothers nudity, just as they were impartial to my and my fathers presence. They helped her lie down in the clear cryo box. It would have looked like a coffin, but coffins have pillows and look a lot more comfortable. This looked more like a shoebox.
Its cold, Mom said. Her pale white skin pressed flat against the bottom of the box.
You wont feel it, the first worker grunted. His nametag said ED.
I looked away as the other worker, Hassan, pierced Moms skin with the IV needles. One in her left arm, hooked up at the crease of her inner elbow; one in her right hand, protruding from that big vein below her knuckles.
Relax, Ed said. It was an order, not a kind suggestion.
Mom bit her lip.
The stuff in the IV bag did not flow like water. It rolled like honey. Hassan squeezed the bag, forcing it down the IV faster. It was sky blue, like the blue of the cornflowers Jason had given me at prom.
My mom hissed in pain. Ed removed a yellow plastic clamp on the empty IV in her elbow. A backflow of bright red blood shot through the IV, pouring into the bag. Moms eyes filled with water. The blue goo from the other IV glowed, a soft sparkle of sky shining through my mothers veins as the goo traveled up her arm.
Gotta wait for it to hit the heart, Ed said, glancing at us. Daddy clenched his fists, his eyes boring into my mom. Her eyes were clamped shut, two hot tears dangling on her lashes.
Hassan squeezed the bag of blue goo again. A line of blood trickled from under Moms teeth where she was biting her lip.
This stuff, its what makes the freezing work. Ed spoke in a conversational tone, like a baker talking about how yeast makes bread rise. Without it, little ice crystals form in the cells and split open the cell walls. This stuff makes the cell walls stronger, see? Ice dont break em. He glanced down at Mom. Hurts like a bitch going in, though.
Her face was pale, and she was lying in that box, and she wasnt moving at all, as if moving would break her. She already looked dead.
I wanted you to see this, Daddy whispered. He didnt look at mehe was still staring at Mom. He didnt even blink.
Why?
So you knew before you did it.
Hassan kept kneading the bag of blue goo. Moms eyes rolled up into the back of her head for a minute, and I thought shed pass out, but she didnt.
Almost there, Ed said, looking at the bag of Moms blood. The flow had slowed down.
The only sound was Hassans heavy breathing as he rubbed the plastic sides of the bag of goo. And whimpering, soft, like a dying kitten, coming from Mom.
A faint blue glow sparkled in the IV leading from Moms elbow.
Okay, stop, Ed said. Its all in her blood now.
Hassan pulled the IVs out. Mom let out a crackling sigh.
Daddy pulled me forward. Looking down at Mom reminded me of looking down at Grandma last year at the church, when we all said goodbye and Mom said she was in a better place, but all she meant was that she was dead.
How is it? I asked.
Not bad, Mom lied. At least she could still speak.
Can I touch her? I asked Ed. He shrugged, so I reached out, gripped the fingers of her left hand. They were already ice cold. She didnt squeeze back.
