Funny thing about writing acknowledgments: You get to write them when you’re all done writing the actual book. So, here I am, in victory-lap mode, and I’m so grateful and happy I sort of want to run down the most crowded street I can find, planting double-cheek kisses on everyone I meet. I guess it would be bad if you caught me on those couple of days somewhere toward the middle of writing the book, when I think every sentence I pen is utter drivel and I spend hours at my desk without typing a word worth keeping. Then, I’m an evil curmudgeon who just begrudges everyone in the universe for having more fun than me. “You called a plumber to fix your overflowing toilet? Grrrr. And I’m stuck here. Grrrr. Again.” So, to anyone who may have been a victim of my scowly face, I’m sorry. I’m actually a very nice person.
I’m lucky to have worked with some really wonderful people who make awesome company, post-alien invasion or anytime. Thanks to everyone at Alloy Entertainment, especially Josh Bank and Sara Shandler for always believing in The End of the World As We Know It, and most especially two very special and lovely women: Joelle Hobeika, so instrumental in helping the book’s unlikely heroes assemble, and Emilia Rhodes, who kept her mind on the mission, helped the funny bits be funnier, and made sure that saving the world felt like a really big deal.
My brother Bill Palmer makes spectacularly entertaining films, and I was lucky enough to have his thoughtful notes on an early draft of this book. My agent, Fonda Snyder, helps keep me sane when sanity isn’t my natural state. My in-laws, Steve and Mary Stanis, are due thanks for headquartering the Chicago chapter of my unofficial fan club.
My parents, Bill and Debra Palmer, have always been the kind of parents teenagers in YA books wish they had (and never do). None of my crazy schemes and dreams ever sounded too crazy to them, and they instilled in me enough wherewithal to work hard and never give up. (And, when I was just nine years old—long before I ever thought someone would pay me to write—they actually did when they bought several of my original works for a dollar each. I definitely overcharged them.)
This book is dedicated to two of my favorite people in the universe. My son, Clark, is not quite two and laughs in the face of childproofing, and while his unique brand of chaos might seem counterproductive to the writing process, I love every anxiety-addled, sleep-deprived second of being his mom. Clark, you are without compare.
Finally, my husband, Steve Stanis, is the one I’d want by my side in any adventure (and who’s already been by my side for so many.) He’d make one badass alien fighter—and a quippy one, too, which in my ranking rates higher even than badass. Steve, you are my ideal love on this or any other planet.