Tell Me Three Things

A New York Times Bestseller

What if the person you need the most is someone you've never met?

Funny and romantic, this tug-at-your-heartstrings contemporary YA debut is perfect for readers of Rainbow Rowell, Jennifer Niven, and E. Lockhart.

Everything about Jessie is wrong. At least, that's what it feels like during her first week as a junior at her new ultra-intimidating prep school in Los Angeles. It's been barely two years since her mother's death, and because her father eloped with a woman he met online, Jessie has been forced to move across the country to live with her stepmonster and her pretentious teenage son.

Just when she's thinking about hightailing it back to Chicago, she gets an email from a person calling themselves Somebody/Nobody (SN for short), offering to help her navigate the wilds of Wood Valley High School. Is it an elaborate hoax? Or can she rely on SN for some much-needed help?

In a leap of faith-or an act of complete desperation-Jessie begins to rely on SN, and SN quickly becomes her lifeline and closest ally. Jessie can't help wanting to meet SN in person. But are some mysteries better left unsolved?

"Three Things about this novel: (1) I loved it. (2) No, really, I LOVED it. (3) I wish I could tell every teen to read it. Buxbaum's book sounds, reads, breathes, worries, and soars like real adolescents do." -Jodi Picoult, New York Times bestselling author of Leaving Time and Off the Page

From the Hardcover edition.

9780553535648 excerpt

Buxbaum / TELL ME THREE THINGS

Chapter 1

Seven hundred and thirty-three days after my mom died, forty-five days after my dad eloped with a stranger he met on the Internet, thirty days after we then up and moved to California, and only seven days after starting as a junior at a brand-new school where I know approximately no one, an email arrives. Which would be weird, an anonymous letter just popping up like that in my in-box, signed with the bizarre alias Somebody Nobody, no less, except my life has become so unrecognizable lately that nothing feels shocking anymore. It took until now-seven hundred and thirty-three whole days in which I've felt the opposite of normal-for me to discover this one important life lesson: turns out you can grow immune to weird.

To: Jessie A. Holmes (jesster567@gmail.com)

From: Somebody Nobody (somebodynobo@gmail.com)

Subject: your Wood Valley H.S. spirit guide

hey there, Ms. Holmes. we haven't met irl, and I'm not sure we ever will. I mean, we probably will at some point-maybe I'll ask you the time or something equally mundane and beneath both of us-but we'll never actually get to know each other, at least not in any sort of real way that matters . . . which is why I figured I'd email you under the cloak of anonymity.

and yes, I realize I'm a sixteen-year-old guy who just used the words "cloak of anonymity." and so there it is already: reason #1 why you'll never get to know my real name. I could never live the shame of that pretentiousness down.

"cloak of anonymity"? seriously?

and yes, I also realize that most people would have just texted, but couldn't figure out how to do that without telling you who I am.

I have been watching you at school. not in a creepy way. though I wonder if even using the word "creepy" by definition makes me creepy? anyhow, it's just . . . you intrigue me. you must have noticed already that our school is a wasteland of mostly blond, vacant-eyed Barbies and Kens, and something about you-not just your newness, because sure, the rest of us have all been going to school together since the age of five-but something about the way you move and talk and actually don't talk but watch all of us like we are part of some bizarre National Geographic documentary makes me think that you might be different from all the other idiots at school.

you make me want to know what goes on in that head of yours. I'll be honest: I'm not usually interested in the contents of other people's heads. my own is work enough.

the whole point of this email is to offer my expertise. sorry to be the bearer of bad news: navigating the wilds of Wood Valley High School ain't easy. this place may look all warm and welcoming, with our yoga and meditation and reading corners and coffee cart (excuse me: Koffee Kart), but like every other high school in America (or maybe even worse), this place is a freaking war zone.

and so I hereby offer up myself as your virtual spirit guide. feel free to ask any question (except of course my identity), and I'll do my best to answer: who to befriend (short list), who to stay away from (longer list), why you shouldn't eat the veggie burgers from the cafeteria (long story that you don't want to know involving jock jizz), how to get an A in Mrs. Stewart's class, and why you should never sit near Ken Abernathy (flatulence issue). Oh, and be careful in gym. Mr. Shackleman makes all the pretty girls run extra laps so he can look at their asses.

that feels like enough information for now.

and fwiw, welcome to the jungle.

yours truly, Somebody Nobody

To: Somebody Nobody (somebodynobo@gmail.com)

From: Jessie A. Holmes (jesster567@gmail.com)

Subject: Elaborate hoax?

SN: Is this for real? Or is this some sort of initiation prank, à la a dumb rom-com? You're going to coax me into sharing my deepest, dar