To my mom, for taking me to the “book house” when I was a tadpole, and for putting up with all my nonsense; and to Tricia, for always demanding more, more, more from my writing, only to vanish, mid-edits, so she could play tennis; and to Sarah, for reading the first version of this story, though I’m still eagerly waiting to hear what she thought; and to Kai and Lucy, for being such adorable little monsters, and for repeatedly smacking my keyboard while I tried to write; and especially to Michelle, for her soul-hugging love and support . . . and for wanting to punch my novel in the face.