Hello (From Here) - Hardcover

Baker, Chandler; King, Wesley

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0593326121 ISBN 13: 9780593326121

Verlag: Dial Books, 2021

Inhaltsangabe

A heartfelt, witty, and thought-provoking YA love story about two teens who fall for each other while forced apart during quarantine, written by two New York Times bestselling authors, and for fans of Five Feet Apart, Anna and the French Kiss, and My Life Next Door

Maxine and Jonah meet in the canned goods aisle just as California is going into lockdown. Max’s part-time job as a personal grocery shopper is about to transform into a hellish gauntlet. Jonah’s preexisting anxiety is about to become an epic daily struggle. As Max and Jonah get to know each other through FaceTime dates, socially distanced playground hangs, and the escalating heartbreaks of the pandemic, they’re pushed apart by what they don’t share and pulled closer by what they do.

As thoughtful, probing, and informed as it is buoyant, romantic, and funny, Hello (From Here) cuts across differences in class, privilege, and mental health, all thrown into stark relief by the COVID-19 pandemic. Here’s a novel that looks at the first two months of the quarantine, and adds falling in love to the mess.

"Hello (From Here) isn't just a book about the pandemic." —PopSugar
"It's also a funny, poignant romcom about the unpredictability of love in chaotic times. . . . Excellent." —BCCB
* "Satisfyingly banter-filled." —PW, starred review
“Sweet . . . Effectively rendered.” —Kirkus
"Realistic." —SLJ
"Not your typical romantic comedy, [it's] a timely update of the genre." —Booklist
"Witty, entertaining . . . endearing and relatable.” —Common Sense Media
"An unputdownable story that YA readers will adore.” —Brightly
“Funny, romantic, and eerily familiar.” —author Kelly Loy Gilbert
“Witty, hilarious, heart-filled, and romantic.” —author Jeff Zentner
"In a category of its own. . . . Wonderful.” —Postmedia

Über diesen Titel

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Chandler Baker is the author of five young adult novels, including This is Not the End. Her adult debut, Whisper Network, was a New York Times bestseller and Reese Witherspoon Book Club pick, and her follow-up, The Husbands, is slated for summer '21. Chandler lives in Austin, Texas with her husband and two young children. She can usually be found listening to audiobooks at two times the normal speed, overspending at bookstores, or obsessing over true crime.

Wesley King is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of eleven novels, including the Wizenard series with Kobe Bryant, the Edgar Award-winning and Bank Street Best Book of the Year OCDaniel, and the Junior Library Guild selections The Vindico and The Feros. He lives in Nova Scotia, as well as on a 1967 boat that he's sailing around the world.

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chapter one

Max

Conventional wisdom suggests that, when the world finally does begin to fall apart, love will be the only thing left that really matters. Petty grievances will fall away. You won’t remember who called you Maxi Pad for the entirety of sixth grade (Logan Bennett) or how much money is in your bank account or the hours spent studying for that one calculus exam you almost failed. Instead, you will spend time with loved ones. Hold them close. Be present. Let them know that you care. And so, I guess, that’s more or less how I came to be price-­comparing boxes of condoms for my seventy-­seven-­year-­old customer, Mrs. Phillips, at the start of a global pandemic.

This is what it’s come down to. Me, standing in the Family Planning aisle of the grocery store debating the merits of flavored versus colored versus ribbed varieties—­trust me, I am so not qualified for this—­and guarding my grocery cart like a lion over its kill. I first took an afterschool job as a personal grocery shopper eight months ago and never have I seen Vons like this. It’s only been a couple hours since Governor Newsom announced a shelter-­in-­place order effective tonight, but already the checkout lines stretch past the soda aisle, and if you want hand sanitizer that badly, you might not want to get too attached to your kidneys.

The canned beans shelves—­wiped. Frozen pizzas—­wiped. Cleaning products—­wiped, wiped, wiped. It’s as if there’s a hurricane, a wildfire, and a blizzard all hitting at once and the entire county has decided to doomsday prep.

I run through the lists of today’s clients, circling the items I still need. Listen, I’m not here to judge anyone’s life choices, but, Mr. Culver, are three different types of soft cheeses and organic pomegranate seeds, like, really priorities right now? I make my best guess for Mrs. Phillips, which is all I can do, given the woman still doesn’t know how to text, and make my way through the maze of shoppers who are demonstrating the whole spectrum of concern levels. I weave around a woman sporting those rubber yellow gloves meant for washing dishes and a dad in shorts and flip-­flops licking his thumb and wiping food from his toddler’s mouth all in one aisle. When I can’t get through a traffic jam in front of the garbage bags, I take the long way through cosmetics toward the back of the store.

“Miss!” someone calls out from somewhere between canned goods and chips, and I’m 99 percent sure that he’s not talking to me because I have a messy bun and a hole in the armpit of my favorite T-­shirt andMiss is some country club shit. “Uh, miss. Hello, I’m talking to you. Excuse me. You can’t do that.” A boy taps me on the shoulder and when I turn around, I see that we are the exact same height, looking eye to light blue eye, a detail that I only notice because, first of all, I’m not oblivious, and, second of all, he is all up in my business.

“Excuse you,” I say, but with attitude, and while trying not to notice the passersby staring me down like I’m trying to shoplift an entire case of frozen pizzas. “Socialdistancing.” I shoo him back.

He hooks his palm around the back of his neck and stares down the Salty Snacks aisle. “Oh, um, sorry, but you’re not supposed to hoard . . . toilet paper.”

“I’m not.” I lean my elbow on the cart handle, mentally tap-­tap-­tapping as a frantic shelf-­stocker in a black apron and an “Ask Me about Super Savings” button rushes between us.

I know you’re not supposed to judge a book by its cover, but I’m sorry. I have this guy pegged. My age, floppy red-­brown hair, nice teeth, those techie catalog glasses, and real collared-­shirt energy—­so much that it’s likehi, yes, you’re obviously from around here and own at least one leather item that’s been monogrammed.

“Actually, you’ve got six packages.” He says it like it pains him a little to be the one to point this out. And yeah, I made sure to score a load from Lou in Inventory as soon as I arrived because I read the news. “The shelves are empty,” he says, “and it’s just—­well—­you’re only supposed to take what you really need. So that there’s enough to go around.”

I eye his basket: a wheel of brie, Clorox wipes, and two bottles of sparkling water.

“So that’s what you really need?” I reach up and pull my bun tighter. “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but this is my job.” Like it painsme a little to be the one to point this out. “I deliver groceries.”

His mouth forms an O as he drags his fingers through his nice haircut. A bright shade of pink swallows up the freckles on the tops of his cheeks and I almost feel bad because, well, the absolute truth is that he’s kind of adorable, if you’re into that sort of thing. “I—­wow—­okay,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He coughs, which is so not the thing to do right now. Everyone within earshot looks at him like he’s Patient Zero in the zombie apocalypse. “I’m—­can we just, like, start over? I’m Jonah and I’m really kind of desperate here.”

“I’m Max and that’s really not my problem.”

“Look.” He shakes it off. “I can pay you for the toilet paper.” He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a (monogrammed!) leather wallet, fishing a handful of bills from it. “How’s forty dollars sound?”

He holds it out and I stare down my nose, not wanting to admit to this boy who has at least a hundred just sitting there that, to me, forty bucks sounds really, really good. “I don’t want your dirty money,” I say, with more conviction than I feel.

He frowns. “I’m not, like, in the Mafia. I got it in a birthday card from my grandma.”

“I mean germs. Cash is covered in them.”

“Oh. Right. Those.” He nods once, returning the money to his wallet. He rocks back on his heels before jumping out of the way of an oncoming cart with a squeaky wheel. “Okay then. Well, I’m sure we can negotiate a deal.”

“Oh, so you’re a lawyer?”

“My dad actually. M and A. That stands for mergers and acquisitions.”

“I know what M and A stands for.” I don’t. “So what do you propose?”

He looks down at his basket and I see that he bites his nails. So do I. “Trade sparkling water for toilet paper.”

I tilt my head, all you’ve got to be kidding me.

“Oh, come on,” he protests. “Someone on your list definitely ordered sparkling water if they’re from Fountain Valley, and I got the last two bottles.” He holds one up and shakes it as enticement. “Oops, probably shouldn’t do that,” he says.

“No deal.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up a finger. “You drive a hard bargain. I’ll throw in the brie too.”

I begin walking away with my cart. No thank you.

“Fine,” he calls after me. “Fine and the Clorox wipes.” I stop. Wait. This just got interesting. “Look,” he says once he has my attention. “We can make it official and everything.” He has his palm up like a stop sign, likehear me out. “I, Jonah...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Dial Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2021
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0593326121
• ISBN 13: 9780593326121
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Anzahl der Seiten: 352
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Buchpark GmbH; gpsr@buchpark.de; ; Krügerweg 1; Trebbin; Brandenburg; 14959; Deutschland