First thanks go to my parents. Only one of you messed up when giving me my DNA, but I owe you both thanks anyway. Thank you for always believing in me and treating me as if I was just as capable as anyone else; for never once considering a missing chromosome as something that should, would, or could hold me back; for always having stacks of books all around the house and for not batting an eye when I told you I wanted to be a writer.
To my siblings, I blame all seven of you for making everything I write a “sibling story.” Thank you for being excited with me. I raise this Disneyland churro in your honor. And to my grandparents, my roots, my safety, and my forever support.
To Dr. Swineyard, the greatest pediatric endocrinologist in the world. The bit about liking doctors’ offices is your fault.
This book is only possible because of the small army of incredible writing teachers I have behind me. This army stretches back to my first middle school and high school English and creative writing teachers, Mr. Matt and Mr. K. There’s maybe no greater gift you could have given than genuine belief and interest in the first writings of a thirteen-year-old, so thank you. Thank you to John Bennion, Chris Crowe, Dawan Coombs, Bruce Young, Steve Tuttle, and all the incredible English department faculty at Brigham Young University. A special thank-you to Martine Leavitt, in whose class I wrote the first draft of this novel. That my return for an MFA and your semester as visiting professor happened to coincide was not, I will never believe, coincidence.
A huge thank-you to all the incredible writing friends and supporters I’ve made over the years. To Kim, Jessica, Jen, Tiffany, Bridey, and Roommate—my miracle friends. To Kristy, Tesia, Amanda, and Madeleine—for letting me be weird even in graduate school. To Elise-Merry, Amanda-Pippin, Kinner-Sam and Bobbi-Frodo—from Sarah-Smeagol, for letting me be weird from the very beginning. To my North Star mentors, Cindy Baldwin, Amanda Rawson Hill, and Ellie Terry, all the other amazing Pitchwars mentors, and to my incredibly supportive Pitchwars ’16 crew. I would truly be lost without you.
To Brianne Johnson, superagent and fairy godmother. Thank you, thank you, for being the first to see Libby’s story and believe it deserved to be told. You are a magic maker and wish granter, and I can’t believe how lucky I am that I was found by someone as masterful as you. To Brianne, Allie Levick, and the rest of the Writer’s House crew, thank you. And to Melissa Warten, for championing this book and for edit letters that inevitably make me whistle and go dang she’s good. If this book shines it’s because of you. To Melissa and the whole team at FSG/Macmillan, thank you for taking me and Libby on.
Lastly, to all the girls born with a missing chromosome. I know each of us has a different story with Turner syndrome, but I wrote this for you. I hope more than anything to meet you one day, and if you want, you can use the code word Cecilia Payne and I’ll give you a giant hug. You are what stars are made of. Here’s what I believe: I believe the maker of stars, the maker of the whole universe, made you. And you are his most perfect and precious creation, just the way you are.