Inconceivable Life of Quinn , livre ebook

PRAISE FOR
The Inconceivable Life of Quinn
This is the kind of book whose questions won t let you go until you ve found answers, and those answers might be more shocking than you expected.
- Eliot Schrefer, two-time National Book Award finalist for Endangered and Threatened
Utterly inventive, sharp and suspenseful-Marianna Baer has conceived a marvelous page-turner with a tender soul. I was riveted by every moment of this taut psychological drama that stretches its high-wire premise on a tightrope over one Brooklyn family s extraordinary year . . . A piece of truly glorious and exuberant storytelling.
- Adele Griffin, author of The Unfinished Life of Addison Stone
Baer perfectly mixes magic into a story that feels so real it grabbed me by the heart and didn t let go until the very end. The Inconceivable Life of Quinn is brave, quirky, touching, and true; there is nothing else like it.
- Marie Rutkoski, New York Times bestselling author of The Winner s Trilogy
A delicate, complicated, and engrossing exploration of the collision between real life and the inexplicable.
- Publishers Weekly, starred review
Readers on board for something thought-provoking will be hooked.
- Booklist
Quinn s voice is real and believable, and the characters are multifaceted and sympathetic.
- Kirkus Reviews
The confusion Quinn deals with is well crafted, and the secondary characters offer rich insight into the story.
- School Library Connection

PUBLISHER S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Control Number for the hardcover edition: 2016025990
Paperback ISBN 978-1-4197-4001-5 eISBN: 978-1-6833-5064-4
Text 2017 Marianna Baer Chapter text excerpted from Wolfwood 2023 Marianna Baer Book design by Alyssa Nassner
Published in paperback in 2023 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. Originally published in hardcover by Amulet Books in 2017. 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.
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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 Cort zar
THE DEEPS
a children s 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 look-someone s here. It s you, come to swim!
You kick off your shoes, run quick, and plunge in .
Hooray! cheer the Deeps, while lifting you high .
Let s 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 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 she d 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 Jesse s 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 legs-tan, 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. It s supposed to be thirty-eight degrees up there tonight. Thirty-eight! We re going to freeze our asses off.
Don t rub it in. She took a sip, the coffee s sweetness dulled by the fact that she was about to spend the long weekend before school started without him. You guys ll be making s mores and I ll be making small talk with strangers.
So come, he said, nudging her.
You know I can t.
I could kidnap you.
My dad has friends in law enforcement. You d get in trouble.
Sadie could kidnap you. She s going to end up in jail someday, anyway.
Ha. Quinn rested her head against his shoulder. It s 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 I ll have to share a tent with Adrian and Oliver instead of you, he groaned. It s tragic.
Shakespearian, she agreed. Hey, what s 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. It s a size zero but the saleslady said it runs big.
Quinn handed back the coffee and pulled a crisp, tissue paper-wrapped packet out of the bag.
Size zero, he mused as she unwrapped it. Doesn t it give you an existential crisis? Like you re not really here?
If I m not really here, you re 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 she d have chosen-her favorite dresses were as close to T-shirts, 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 she d 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.
Maybe she does. Quinn loved videos of unlikely interspecies friendships. Can you finish my zipper? she asked, turning her back to him.
I d rather unfinish it.
Tease. You re the one who can t stay long.
While she sucked in, he coaxed the zipper to the bottom of her shoulder blades, the fabric squeezing her like a corset. The dress was sized much smaller than a usual zero, not bigger-that must have been what the saleslady meant.
She faced him, hands on her hips. Too small, isn t it?
Whoa, he said, eyebrows raised. It s . . . it s a dress, all right.
Keen observation, detective. Is it a dress I should wear to my dad s campaign party?
And every day for the rest of your life.
She felt a hum of pleasure at his approval. What, like Miss Havisham?
Jesse shrugged. She found something that worked and stuck with it. Nothing wrong with that.
Quinn laughed.
Her bedroom didn t have a full-length mirror, so she went down the hall to the bathroom, which was currently filled with jars of suspicious liquids for Lydia s science experiments. The air smelled dangerous, like it might spontaneously ignite. She flipped on the overhead light and shut the door