No going back, p.21
No Going Back, page 21
Zephyr Woods Youth Detention Center.
Somewhere on that drive, the part of my mind that’s
capable of imagining, hoping, believing, loving…
was sucked out of me. And into that void flooded a torrent of rage.
Getting me inside that place would be no breeze.
I fought drivers and guards, writhing, kicking, screaming,
fighting in order to flee…
to get back to my mom, to get back to Maya,
to get back to Grace, to get back to the pier,
to get back to myself, to get back to my mind.
In a padded room, wrapped tight in that jacket,
I knew I’d lost, all was lost, no going back,
but the rage wasn’t gone,
so I fought the floor and the walls.
I fought and I fought and I fought and I fought…
MONDAY 6:52 AM
Gary and me end up in the back seat together. Claudio is going as fast as he can down 24th when he looks into the rearview mirror. He shakes his head, saying, “No time to get you cleaned up.” He reaches over to the glove compartment, pulls out a rag, and tosses it into the back seat.
I do my best. But stuff is stuck on me like glue. I’m wet. I’m muddy. I smell. But if I can make it to my meeting on time, and if Murdock overlooks the mess I am…
I lean over to catch a look in the rearview mirror.
Jesus.
My hands start shaking.
My legs start shaking.
My face is tingling.
And if Murdock can overlook me seeing my dad and hitting him, and stealing Nancy’s car, which he’ll know if she called the cops. Cuz why wouldn’t she call the cops?
My breath runs away from me.
I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—
I try.
To slow.
But I can’t.
Cuz I don’t.
Can’t.
Go back.
To Zephyr.
I need to be here.
With my mom.
My sister.
Grace.
I need to be in school.
Here.
I can’t go back there.
Breathe.
I can’t.
Breathe, Antonio!
I can’t.
I can’t catch my—
We’re approaching the turn onto 223rd. Just minutes away.
The doors of this car are closing in on me. And there’s
only one
thing to—
My fingers grip the door handle. To open up—
to jump—
to run—
But something—
A touch.
Skin.
On my skin.
Warmth from the palm of a hand.
On the back of my hand.
My eyes drop.
Gary’s Jr.’s hand is resting on my hand.
Gary’s Jr.’s skin on my skin.
I look up at him.
His eyes are closed.
He inhales as long, as deep, as he can.
Eyes still closed, he exhales as long and slow as he can.
He inhales deep again.
Exhales slow again.
And without even thinking, I try.
My inhale is a short, desperate gulp.
I feel myself holding my breath, waiting for Gary’s exhale.
I exhale with him, pushing as long as I can.
I close my eyes, waiting for his breath. Exhaling when he does. Inhaling when he does.
I keep going like that. Chasing Gary’s breath. Until we’re together.
Inhaling deep.
Exhaling slow.
My hand falls from the door handle.
We inhale deep.
Exhale slow.
Inhale deep.
Exhale slow.
When I Learned How to Breathe
So then, in the padded room, I’m on the floor,
my back pressed stiff against the wall,
my fists balled, muscles flexed, one knee pumping
up and down, up and down, up and down.
I was
exhausted
but
could
not
stop
my
breath
from—
The door opened.
In walked a lady who looked like a grandmother.
She stood there as the door closed behind her.
Oh, sweet boy, she said. It’s been a rough day.
I came to sit with you.
I heard the
words
but I
couldn’t—
I couldn’t—
I couldn’t—
Nod your head if you can hear me.
I nodded to the lady.
May I sit with you?
I nodded to the lady.
She sat down in her nice clothes
on the padded floor with me.
And she rested a palm on my hand.
I looked at her face. Her eyes were closed.
I watched for them to open.
But they didn’t.
I listened for her to speak more words.
But she didn’t.
She just slowly breathed in…
… and slowly breathed out.
Over and over.
No words.
Just breathing.
No words.
Just breath.
No words.
Until…
I don’t know when. But at some point it started.
I was breathing right along with that lady.
She opened her eyes.
I sensed it and opened mine.
Hello, Antonio. I’m Mrs. Williams.
I nodded to Mrs. Williams.
When you are overstressed, anxious, agitated, terrified,
that shallow, short breathing and your mind screaming to fight or run
are nature’s way of preparing you to act in the face of danger.
But nature doesn’t know the difference
between the times you truly need to fight or run
and the times you’d be better off taking a moment to calm yourself,
quiet your mind, and think things through.
Those are the moments when we need to
inhale deep
then
exhale slow and long.
Good. Shall we do it again?
I nodded to Mrs. Williams.
She closed her eyes.
I closed mine.
We inhaled deep.
We exhaled slow.
And sat doing nothing but that for the longest time.
MONDAY 6:59 AM
We inhale deep.
We exhale slow.
Inhale deep.
Exhale slow.
Inhale deep.
I’m gonna face the music.
Exhale slow.
I’m going in there.
Inhale deep.
I’m gonna tell my story.
Exhale slow.
I feel Gary’s hand lift off of mine.
I open my eyes.
“Wow, Tonio,” he says, “that is some seriously powerful shit.”
“Oxygen?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Right?” I say. “I been trying to do that all weekend.”
“Your weekend has been too much to even breathe.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Tonio,” he says, “now that your head is clear, we gotta get something straight between us. And we gotta do it now, because in a minute you’ll be running into your meeting.”
“What, Gary?”
He looks out the window as we make a right onto 223rd, just one block to the turn into the Puget High parking lot. “You said a lot of goodbyes this weekend. Like, for-real, forever goodbyes.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“You got another of those goodbyes left to say? Cuz if you do, you better do it now.”
I think about the goodbyes.
Maya. Fighting to hang on to the old Maya, the old us… that felt like desperation.
Vaughn. Hanging on to hating him felt a lot like hating myself.
My dad. Hanging on to the idea that we could have a future… that felt like hanging on to a life of fear and endless disappointment.
My mom. I’m hanging on tight to her. But letting the resentment go.
The only thing worse than hanging on to resentment of my mom was hanging on to the stuff I felt about myself.
I’m happy to say goodbye to all of it.
But Gary Jr.?
I look right at him. Those eyes. His smile.
Holding on to Gary means believing in the possibility that there is goodness in the world. There is true friendship. Endless curiosity. Endless hope. And a person to breathe with.
“Goodbye goodbye was the plan when I went to see you at Westernco. It was the plan after the party. It was the plan after I left your apartment yesterday. It was the plan on the beach before I saw you on the pier last night.”
“We’ve been through a lot since then, Tonio.”
“Yeah we have.”
“So?”
“So I’m never going to treat you like that again. I swear, Gary. I’m sorry I ever did. And I promise you I’m gonna be the kind of friend you deserve from here on out, because you are stuck with me for the long haul.”
“That’s good. Because you know you’re stuck with me. For the long haul.” He unbuckles his seat belt and lunges onto me. He squeezes me around the shoulders tight as he can. “Damn universe has a way, Tonio. It has a way.” Then he drops back into his seat, smiling.
Approaching the turn into the school drop-off, we get stuck behind buses backed up all the way out into the street. “You gotta get outta here,” Claudio says. “And run!”
“Let’s go, Tonio!” Gary jumps out and starts running.
I hop out and pump my arms and legs right behind him as he clears a path through the crowd of kids.
“Comin’ through!” Gary shouts.
They throw us wild-eyed looks.
Gary pushes through. “Make way for Tonio!”
Fifty yards to go.
Twenty-five.
Ten.
I pull open the front door and run past the office entrance, around the corner to the conference-room door.
Before I open it, Gary Jr. grabs me by the shoulders. “You got this, Tonio! You hear me? You got this!”
MONDAY 7:02 AM
I walk in with Gary Jr. I make eye contact with my mom, who is sitting at the conference-room table, holding Olivia on her shoulder. Grace is here too! And she brought Tommy. They closed Westernco Donut for this! Mr. Matthews is here. All these people to support me in my transition back.
“Oh, Antonio,” Mrs. Lucrisia says.
“Um… wow,” Murdock says.
Their jaws hang. Their eyes are wide open. They’re staring at me like this situation is one for the books.
“This is going to be quick,” Murdock says. He stands and positions himself next to me, his back firm against the door. He introduces himself to everyone. Then he says how disappointed he is.
As expected, Nancy had called the cops about me taking the car and about hitting my dad. Apparently, my dad already talked her into not pressing charges.
“Charges or no charges,” Murdock says, “you broke the law. You broke curfew. You made contact with your father. It’s obvious you’ve been drinking. That’s four broken terms right there.”
“I didn’t drink,” I say.
“You were out of touch for long periods of time. That’s five.” He looks at Gary Jr. “And your friend is on probation.”
“I didn’t know you couldn’t—” Gary says his face turning red.
I smile at him. To let him know it’s okay. Cuz I needed him this weekend. And I’m going to need him moving forward.
“You were late to this meeting.”
“Like three minutes.”
“Six conditions of parole violated. In three days. Might be a record.”
“If you’d just let me—”
“Transitions back are difficult,” he says. “This is why there are parole conditions to begin with. I hate to do it, Antonio, but this one’s an easy call.”
There’s a knock on the door. Officer Murdock opens it. Claudio enters and takes a seat.
Murdock reaches for his belt. “I’ll phone the squad car to transport you back to Juvenile Court in Seattle. There’ll be a short hearing. Then a trip back to Zephyr Woods.”
He unclips handcuffs from his belt and turns to me. “Sorry, man. Hands behind your back.”
“Please,” I beg, “let me explain.”
Murdock says he doesn’t know what I could possibly say.
“He said he can explain!” my mom says. “Let him!”
“Let the boy talk!” Grace says.
Gary and Claudio chime in too.
Murdock looks to Mr. Matthews and Mrs. Lucrisia like he’s asking them to quiet things down.
They’re looking at him like he’s the one who should do something.
Finally, Mrs. Lucrisia puts two fingers between her teeth and whistles loud.
The room falls silent.
“Antonio,” Mrs. Lucrisia says, “I’m looking at you and you are a mess, which is the understatement of the year. You knew this was a school day. You knew you’d be attending this important meeting. You knew you’d see Officer Murdock. I know you well enough to believe there’s no way you’d be here looking like this unless something happened to you. Something big. I want to hear what it was.”
I turn to Murdock. Everyone in the room does.
“This meeting was set to go an hour,” Mrs. Lucrisia says.
Murdock checks his watch. He lets out a big, tired breath and turns to me. “All right, man. Let’s hear it. But we all know where this is headed.”
I nod.
I swallow.
I open my eyes and scan the room.
I make eye contact with Mr. Matthews. Mrs. Lucrisia. Grace and Tommy. Claudio. My mom. Olivia. And Gary Jr. He gives me a thumbs-up, his iPhone at his chest, where only I can see the video light is on. He’s catching all this. Because he’s really gonna make that film of our lives someday. And he’s gonna have to remember what happened.
There’s a buzz in my pocket.
A text from Maya.
“Hold on a sec,” I say. “I promise.” I click the text. A GIF opens up.
Our great blue heron at the pier at sunset.
Her beak pointed upward.
Wings slowly unfolding.
Downward pushing.
Upward lifting.
Taking flight.
Then a text.
Make a wish!
I could make my wish for this moment. But I make one for someday.
I wished! You?
I wished you all the wishes.
I set my phone on the table and send Maya a mental message of thanks for not giving up on me.
My phone buzzes again.
All the best, Antonio! And keep your eye
on the water.
I send silent thank-yous to my team from Zephyr. Charlie and Maureen from AA, Ms. Duncan, and Mrs. Williams.
I touch the shield on my heart. And I look up toward heaven, taking in one more big, deep breath, letting it fill me up with the goodness of all the people who have ever loved me.
No more raging.
No more fighting.
No more running.
I am calm.
“I know this looks really bad,” I say. “I look really bad. But if you get past looks, and you listen to what’s inside of me, you’ll realize I’m more prepared to live my best life—a good, honest, productive, law-abiding, healthy life—than I ever have been.
“And that’s not because of Zephyr Woods. Okay, there were a few people there who helped me a lot. A lot. And they got me part of the way. But mostly, the Zephyr experience was just incarceration. Depressing. Cold. Boring. Degrading. What prepared me the rest of the way was getting reacquainted with the people in this room—and getting to know a couple of them for the very first time. But that’s not everything that prepared me. Believe it or not, it’s the wildest stuff that happened to me this weekend that got me ready too. Yup. I’m prepared to live my best life because of everything that made me the mess who is standing before you today.”
I remind myself to just tell my story. The whole story of the seventy-two hours after my release from prison. And no matter what happens with those handcuffs after my story is over, I know I did what I needed to do. I said the goodbyes I needed to say. I forgave the people I needed to forgive.
And in my mind, and in my heart, I am free.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a big crew to shepherd a book from initial inspiration all the way to publication. I owe the following folks more than thank-yous. Nevertheless, a huge thanks to agent Steven Chudney for helping me transition No Going Back from a seemingly never-ending series of experiments to a novel. Thanks to publisher-editor extraordinaire Christy Ottaviano for falling for the messy versions of Antonio—and Sam, Luis, and Teodoro—and for pushing all the right buttons in guiding me to realize their potential. Thanks to Jessica Anderson for years of work on my behalf at Christy Ottaviano Books.
Thanks to cover artist Adams Carvalho, art director Karina Granda, assistant editor Leyla Erkan, production editor Esther Reisberg, copy editor Lara Stelmaszyk, and proofreaders Tara Rayers and Daniel Lupo. And to the folks at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers and Hachette whose efforts and care helped bring this book to life.
Somewhere on that drive, the part of my mind that’s
capable of imagining, hoping, believing, loving…
was sucked out of me. And into that void flooded a torrent of rage.
Getting me inside that place would be no breeze.
I fought drivers and guards, writhing, kicking, screaming,
fighting in order to flee…
to get back to my mom, to get back to Maya,
to get back to Grace, to get back to the pier,
to get back to myself, to get back to my mind.
In a padded room, wrapped tight in that jacket,
I knew I’d lost, all was lost, no going back,
but the rage wasn’t gone,
so I fought the floor and the walls.
I fought and I fought and I fought and I fought…
MONDAY 6:52 AM
Gary and me end up in the back seat together. Claudio is going as fast as he can down 24th when he looks into the rearview mirror. He shakes his head, saying, “No time to get you cleaned up.” He reaches over to the glove compartment, pulls out a rag, and tosses it into the back seat.
I do my best. But stuff is stuck on me like glue. I’m wet. I’m muddy. I smell. But if I can make it to my meeting on time, and if Murdock overlooks the mess I am…
I lean over to catch a look in the rearview mirror.
Jesus.
My hands start shaking.
My legs start shaking.
My face is tingling.
And if Murdock can overlook me seeing my dad and hitting him, and stealing Nancy’s car, which he’ll know if she called the cops. Cuz why wouldn’t she call the cops?
My breath runs away from me.
I can’t—I can’t—I can’t—
I try.
To slow.
But I can’t.
Cuz I don’t.
Can’t.
Go back.
To Zephyr.
I need to be here.
With my mom.
My sister.
Grace.
I need to be in school.
Here.
I can’t go back there.
Breathe.
I can’t.
Breathe, Antonio!
I can’t.
I can’t catch my—
We’re approaching the turn onto 223rd. Just minutes away.
The doors of this car are closing in on me. And there’s
only one
thing to—
My fingers grip the door handle. To open up—
to jump—
to run—
But something—
A touch.
Skin.
On my skin.
Warmth from the palm of a hand.
On the back of my hand.
My eyes drop.
Gary’s Jr.’s hand is resting on my hand.
Gary’s Jr.’s skin on my skin.
I look up at him.
His eyes are closed.
He inhales as long, as deep, as he can.
Eyes still closed, he exhales as long and slow as he can.
He inhales deep again.
Exhales slow again.
And without even thinking, I try.
My inhale is a short, desperate gulp.
I feel myself holding my breath, waiting for Gary’s exhale.
I exhale with him, pushing as long as I can.
I close my eyes, waiting for his breath. Exhaling when he does. Inhaling when he does.
I keep going like that. Chasing Gary’s breath. Until we’re together.
Inhaling deep.
Exhaling slow.
My hand falls from the door handle.
We inhale deep.
Exhale slow.
Inhale deep.
Exhale slow.
When I Learned How to Breathe
So then, in the padded room, I’m on the floor,
my back pressed stiff against the wall,
my fists balled, muscles flexed, one knee pumping
up and down, up and down, up and down.
I was
exhausted
but
could
not
stop
my
breath
from—
The door opened.
In walked a lady who looked like a grandmother.
She stood there as the door closed behind her.
Oh, sweet boy, she said. It’s been a rough day.
I came to sit with you.
I heard the
words
but I
couldn’t—
I couldn’t—
I couldn’t—
Nod your head if you can hear me.
I nodded to the lady.
May I sit with you?
I nodded to the lady.
She sat down in her nice clothes
on the padded floor with me.
And she rested a palm on my hand.
I looked at her face. Her eyes were closed.
I watched for them to open.
But they didn’t.
I listened for her to speak more words.
But she didn’t.
She just slowly breathed in…
… and slowly breathed out.
Over and over.
No words.
Just breathing.
No words.
Just breath.
No words.
Until…
I don’t know when. But at some point it started.
I was breathing right along with that lady.
She opened her eyes.
I sensed it and opened mine.
Hello, Antonio. I’m Mrs. Williams.
I nodded to Mrs. Williams.
When you are overstressed, anxious, agitated, terrified,
that shallow, short breathing and your mind screaming to fight or run
are nature’s way of preparing you to act in the face of danger.
But nature doesn’t know the difference
between the times you truly need to fight or run
and the times you’d be better off taking a moment to calm yourself,
quiet your mind, and think things through.
Those are the moments when we need to
inhale deep
then
exhale slow and long.
Good. Shall we do it again?
I nodded to Mrs. Williams.
She closed her eyes.
I closed mine.
We inhaled deep.
We exhaled slow.
And sat doing nothing but that for the longest time.
MONDAY 6:59 AM
We inhale deep.
We exhale slow.
Inhale deep.
Exhale slow.
Inhale deep.
I’m gonna face the music.
Exhale slow.
I’m going in there.
Inhale deep.
I’m gonna tell my story.
Exhale slow.
I feel Gary’s hand lift off of mine.
I open my eyes.
“Wow, Tonio,” he says, “that is some seriously powerful shit.”
“Oxygen?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Right?” I say. “I been trying to do that all weekend.”
“Your weekend has been too much to even breathe.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Tonio,” he says, “now that your head is clear, we gotta get something straight between us. And we gotta do it now, because in a minute you’ll be running into your meeting.”
“What, Gary?”
He looks out the window as we make a right onto 223rd, just one block to the turn into the Puget High parking lot. “You said a lot of goodbyes this weekend. Like, for-real, forever goodbyes.”
“Yeah,” I say.
“You got another of those goodbyes left to say? Cuz if you do, you better do it now.”
I think about the goodbyes.
Maya. Fighting to hang on to the old Maya, the old us… that felt like desperation.
Vaughn. Hanging on to hating him felt a lot like hating myself.
My dad. Hanging on to the idea that we could have a future… that felt like hanging on to a life of fear and endless disappointment.
My mom. I’m hanging on tight to her. But letting the resentment go.
The only thing worse than hanging on to resentment of my mom was hanging on to the stuff I felt about myself.
I’m happy to say goodbye to all of it.
But Gary Jr.?
I look right at him. Those eyes. His smile.
Holding on to Gary means believing in the possibility that there is goodness in the world. There is true friendship. Endless curiosity. Endless hope. And a person to breathe with.
“Goodbye goodbye was the plan when I went to see you at Westernco. It was the plan after the party. It was the plan after I left your apartment yesterday. It was the plan on the beach before I saw you on the pier last night.”
“We’ve been through a lot since then, Tonio.”
“Yeah we have.”
“So?”
“So I’m never going to treat you like that again. I swear, Gary. I’m sorry I ever did. And I promise you I’m gonna be the kind of friend you deserve from here on out, because you are stuck with me for the long haul.”
“That’s good. Because you know you’re stuck with me. For the long haul.” He unbuckles his seat belt and lunges onto me. He squeezes me around the shoulders tight as he can. “Damn universe has a way, Tonio. It has a way.” Then he drops back into his seat, smiling.
Approaching the turn into the school drop-off, we get stuck behind buses backed up all the way out into the street. “You gotta get outta here,” Claudio says. “And run!”
“Let’s go, Tonio!” Gary jumps out and starts running.
I hop out and pump my arms and legs right behind him as he clears a path through the crowd of kids.
“Comin’ through!” Gary shouts.
They throw us wild-eyed looks.
Gary pushes through. “Make way for Tonio!”
Fifty yards to go.
Twenty-five.
Ten.
I pull open the front door and run past the office entrance, around the corner to the conference-room door.
Before I open it, Gary Jr. grabs me by the shoulders. “You got this, Tonio! You hear me? You got this!”
MONDAY 7:02 AM
I walk in with Gary Jr. I make eye contact with my mom, who is sitting at the conference-room table, holding Olivia on her shoulder. Grace is here too! And she brought Tommy. They closed Westernco Donut for this! Mr. Matthews is here. All these people to support me in my transition back.
“Oh, Antonio,” Mrs. Lucrisia says.
“Um… wow,” Murdock says.
Their jaws hang. Their eyes are wide open. They’re staring at me like this situation is one for the books.
“This is going to be quick,” Murdock says. He stands and positions himself next to me, his back firm against the door. He introduces himself to everyone. Then he says how disappointed he is.
As expected, Nancy had called the cops about me taking the car and about hitting my dad. Apparently, my dad already talked her into not pressing charges.
“Charges or no charges,” Murdock says, “you broke the law. You broke curfew. You made contact with your father. It’s obvious you’ve been drinking. That’s four broken terms right there.”
“I didn’t drink,” I say.
“You were out of touch for long periods of time. That’s five.” He looks at Gary Jr. “And your friend is on probation.”
“I didn’t know you couldn’t—” Gary says his face turning red.
I smile at him. To let him know it’s okay. Cuz I needed him this weekend. And I’m going to need him moving forward.
“You were late to this meeting.”
“Like three minutes.”
“Six conditions of parole violated. In three days. Might be a record.”
“If you’d just let me—”
“Transitions back are difficult,” he says. “This is why there are parole conditions to begin with. I hate to do it, Antonio, but this one’s an easy call.”
There’s a knock on the door. Officer Murdock opens it. Claudio enters and takes a seat.
Murdock reaches for his belt. “I’ll phone the squad car to transport you back to Juvenile Court in Seattle. There’ll be a short hearing. Then a trip back to Zephyr Woods.”
He unclips handcuffs from his belt and turns to me. “Sorry, man. Hands behind your back.”
“Please,” I beg, “let me explain.”
Murdock says he doesn’t know what I could possibly say.
“He said he can explain!” my mom says. “Let him!”
“Let the boy talk!” Grace says.
Gary and Claudio chime in too.
Murdock looks to Mr. Matthews and Mrs. Lucrisia like he’s asking them to quiet things down.
They’re looking at him like he’s the one who should do something.
Finally, Mrs. Lucrisia puts two fingers between her teeth and whistles loud.
The room falls silent.
“Antonio,” Mrs. Lucrisia says, “I’m looking at you and you are a mess, which is the understatement of the year. You knew this was a school day. You knew you’d be attending this important meeting. You knew you’d see Officer Murdock. I know you well enough to believe there’s no way you’d be here looking like this unless something happened to you. Something big. I want to hear what it was.”
I turn to Murdock. Everyone in the room does.
“This meeting was set to go an hour,” Mrs. Lucrisia says.
Murdock checks his watch. He lets out a big, tired breath and turns to me. “All right, man. Let’s hear it. But we all know where this is headed.”
I nod.
I swallow.
I open my eyes and scan the room.
I make eye contact with Mr. Matthews. Mrs. Lucrisia. Grace and Tommy. Claudio. My mom. Olivia. And Gary Jr. He gives me a thumbs-up, his iPhone at his chest, where only I can see the video light is on. He’s catching all this. Because he’s really gonna make that film of our lives someday. And he’s gonna have to remember what happened.
There’s a buzz in my pocket.
A text from Maya.
“Hold on a sec,” I say. “I promise.” I click the text. A GIF opens up.
Our great blue heron at the pier at sunset.
Her beak pointed upward.
Wings slowly unfolding.
Downward pushing.
Upward lifting.
Taking flight.
Then a text.
Make a wish!
I could make my wish for this moment. But I make one for someday.
I wished! You?
I wished you all the wishes.
I set my phone on the table and send Maya a mental message of thanks for not giving up on me.
My phone buzzes again.
All the best, Antonio! And keep your eye
on the water.
I send silent thank-yous to my team from Zephyr. Charlie and Maureen from AA, Ms. Duncan, and Mrs. Williams.
I touch the shield on my heart. And I look up toward heaven, taking in one more big, deep breath, letting it fill me up with the goodness of all the people who have ever loved me.
No more raging.
No more fighting.
No more running.
I am calm.
“I know this looks really bad,” I say. “I look really bad. But if you get past looks, and you listen to what’s inside of me, you’ll realize I’m more prepared to live my best life—a good, honest, productive, law-abiding, healthy life—than I ever have been.
“And that’s not because of Zephyr Woods. Okay, there were a few people there who helped me a lot. A lot. And they got me part of the way. But mostly, the Zephyr experience was just incarceration. Depressing. Cold. Boring. Degrading. What prepared me the rest of the way was getting reacquainted with the people in this room—and getting to know a couple of them for the very first time. But that’s not everything that prepared me. Believe it or not, it’s the wildest stuff that happened to me this weekend that got me ready too. Yup. I’m prepared to live my best life because of everything that made me the mess who is standing before you today.”
I remind myself to just tell my story. The whole story of the seventy-two hours after my release from prison. And no matter what happens with those handcuffs after my story is over, I know I did what I needed to do. I said the goodbyes I needed to say. I forgave the people I needed to forgive.
And in my mind, and in my heart, I am free.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It takes a big crew to shepherd a book from initial inspiration all the way to publication. I owe the following folks more than thank-yous. Nevertheless, a huge thanks to agent Steven Chudney for helping me transition No Going Back from a seemingly never-ending series of experiments to a novel. Thanks to publisher-editor extraordinaire Christy Ottaviano for falling for the messy versions of Antonio—and Sam, Luis, and Teodoro—and for pushing all the right buttons in guiding me to realize their potential. Thanks to Jessica Anderson for years of work on my behalf at Christy Ottaviano Books.
Thanks to cover artist Adams Carvalho, art director Karina Granda, assistant editor Leyla Erkan, production editor Esther Reisberg, copy editor Lara Stelmaszyk, and proofreaders Tara Rayers and Daniel Lupo. And to the folks at Little, Brown Books for Young Readers and Hachette whose efforts and care helped bring this book to life.
