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Take Me With You When You Go
Take Me With You When You Go Read online
Also by David Levithan
Boy Meets Boy
The Realm of Possibility
Are We There Yet?
Wide Awake
How They Met, and Other Stories
Love Is the Higher Law
The Lover’s Dictionary
Every Day
Two Boys Kissing
Another Day
Someday
19 Love Songs
The Mysterious Disappearance of Aidan S. (as told to his brother)
Also by Jennifer Niven
All the Bright Places
Holding Up the Universe
Breathless
The Ice Master
Ada Blackjack
Velva Jean Learns to Drive
Velva Jean Learns to Fly
Becoming Clementine
American Blonde
this is a borzoi book published by alfred a. knopf
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2021 by David Levithan and Jennifer Niven
Cover art copyright © 2021 by Tito Merello
Original photo copyright © 2021 by PhotoAlto/Sigrid Olsson/Getty Images
Author portraits copyright © 2021 by Tito Merello
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Alfred A. Knopf, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Knopf, Borzoi Books, and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.
ISBN 9780525580997 (trade) — ISBN 9780525581000 (lib. bdg.) — ebook ISBN 9780525581017
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Contents
Cover
Also by David Levithan and Jennifer Niven
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Subject: You. Missing.
Subject: Me.
Subject: You. Missing.
Subject: Lunchtime.
Subject: Study Hall
Subject: Midnight
Subject: Re: Midnight
Subject: This Is Not an April Fools’ Joke
Subject: Sorry
Subject: More
Subject: P.S.
Subject: Are You Ok?
Subject: Are You Ok?
Subject: Ez! Are You Ok?
Subject: Seriously. Are You Ok? No Really, Are You Alive?
Subject: Hello?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
Subject: Help
Subject: The News
Subject: Holy Shit, Ez.
Subject: My New Life
Subject: More.
Subject: What? Who?
Subject: Who? What?
Subject: The Great Pretenders
Subject: A Day in the Life of Bea
Subject: A Day in the Life of Bea (Part Two)
Subject: Behind Closed Doors
Subject: Behind Closed Bathroom Doors
Subject: ????
Subject: Good News, Bad News
Subject: Get Your Head Out of Your Navel, Ezra
Subject: So…?
Subject: Dying Here. Hopefully Not Dying There.
Subject: Re: Dying Here. Hopefully Not Dying There.
Subject: Re: Dying Here. Hopefully Not Dying There.
Subject: Not Dying Here.
Subject: Maybe Dying a Little.
Subject: How Bea Came to Be (in a Strange City Miles from Home)
Subject: Mg Take Two
Subject: Mg Take Three
Subject: Re: Mg Take Three
Subject: Re: Mg Take Three
Subject: The View from Here
Subject: Please Tell Me This Isn’t How Love Works
Subject: This Is Not How Love Works
Subject: Thick as a Thief
Subject: Confession
Subject: A Complication
Subject: Joe Is a Child
Subject: A Confession
Subject: On the Bright Side
Subject: I Don’t Know Where to Start
Subject: ?
Subject: ???
Subject: Not Exactly High Noon
Subject: Just in Case You Think I’m Thinking About Anything Else
Subject: I Am Meeting Him At
Subject: Okay
Subject: Questions
Subject: My Vow to You
Subject: Or
Subject: Please Do This One Favor for Your Poor High School
Subject: Re: Please Do This One Favor for Your Poor High School
Subject: Jonny Pryor?!!!!
Subject: But Seriously, Jonny Pryor?!!!!
Subject: My First Kiss…
Subject: Goodnight
Subject: With Friends Like These…
Subject: Sloane
Subject: The Morning Of
Subject: Almost the Afternoon Of
Subject: Hello
Subject: Hello Again
Subject: Some Things About Me
Subject: One More Thing
Subject: Last One, I Swear
Subject: Fw: Last One, I Swear
Subject: Fw: Hello
Subject: Re: Fw: Hello
Subject: Fw: Last One, I Swear
Subject: The Deep End
Subject: The Deeper End
Subject: The Deeper End—Part Two
Subject: From Bea
Subject: Late Night Wonderings
Subject: Sunday Bloody Sunday
Subject: #Fuckdarren
Subject: From Franco
Subject: Slu (My Day Part One)
Subject: London Wooster (My Day Part Two)
Subject: Allies
Subject: Alternate Universe of Bea
Subject: Alternate Universe of Bea (Two)
Subject: Alternate Universe of Bea (Three)
Subject: Alternate Universe of Madelyn
Subject: Alternate Universe of Madelyn (Two)
Subject: Alternate Universe of Mad
elyn (Three)
Subject: Alternate Universe of Madelyn (Four)
Subject: Unexpected Allies
Subject: Re: Unexpected Allies
Subject: Have You Seen Me?
Subject: Your Heart
Subject: This Is How It Ends and Begins
Subject: Family
Subject: Apology from Bea
Subject: From Bea
Subject: From Your Old Best Friend
Subject: From Your Daughter
Subject: From the All-Knowing Martha
Subject: From Your Disappearing Friend Bea Ahern
Subject: Graduation and School-Related Questions From
Subject: Update from Your Sister
Subject: From Madelyn
Subject: Dear Madelyn
Subject: Family
Subject: Over Coffee
Acknowledgments
Authors’ Note and Resources
About the Authors
With gratitude to all the indie booksellers, especially everyone at Little City Books (my local that got me through a pandemic), Books of Wonder (for almost two decades of support to date), and Avid Bookshop (my local that I don’t live anywhere near).
—D.L.
For Joe and Angelo, brothers of my heart. I love you more than Harry Styles and ABBA and popcorn. And words—I love you more than words.
—J.N.
As far as you take me
That’s where I believe
—The Smashing Pumpkins,
“Porcelina of the Vast Oceans”
Subject: You. Missing.
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Date: Mon 25 Mar 12:12 EST
Dear Bea,
I am not mad at you. I don’t blame you. But I do think you owe me an explanation.
I know you’re gone. We all know you’re gone. I think from the moment Mom went into your room and found it the way you left it, we knew. What an exquisite fuck you to her and Darren—a perfectly made bed. Like it had never been slept in. Like you’d never been here at all. How many times have they yelled at you to make that bed? How many times have you refused? (Hint: The answer to both questions is the same number.) And now: You left everything smooth and blank.
No note. No word.
I know. I looked.
I wasn’t the one who found your room like that. I was sitting at the kitchen table, trying to eat cereal in a way that wouldn’t annoy Darren. Suddenly Mom was screaming your name. Again and again, angry at first, then something else—maybe ten percent scared. (It maxed out there, about ten percent.) I’ll admit I didn’t think much of it, since no morning would be complete without you two fighting. Darren didn’t look up from his toast either. But then Mom came storming into the kitchen and launched right into me—Where is your sister? Tell me right now where she is.
If I were you, I would have responded with something like “How the fuck should I know?” or “Isn’t it a little early for this shit, Mom?” But it’s a well-established fact that I am not you, so immediately I was like, “I don’t know I don’t know I don’t know—what’s going onnnnnnn?” Sounding guilty as I tried so hard to sound innocent. Then she turned to Darren and was like, “She’s gone,” and he was like, “How the hell can she be gone?”
As an answer, we took a family trip up to your room. That’s when I saw your bed and thought, Oh, wow. She’s taken off.
I wasn’t going to say anything more than that, but they saw me looking around and Darren was on me in a flash, asking what was missing. I pointed out that your backpack wasn’t anywhere in sight, and that your schoolbooks were now stacked next to your garbage pail. (Nice touch.) Also, the biggest shock, your phone was abandoned on your dresser. Presumably so we couldn’t use it to track you.
Mom and Darren acted like insider knowledge was required to make this observation, so the interrogation resumed. I didn’t crack, though. Or wait—I guess I did crack. But they quickly saw there wasn’t anything behind the crack. You’d left me empty too.
They might have kept on me—there wasn’t anything else for them to do, or at least nothing else that was occurring to them—but at that moment we were jolted by a honk outside. And I’ll admit—even though it didn’t really surprise me to find you were gone, it surprised the heck out of me to have Joe in front of our house, coming to pick you up. Because that meant you’d left him too.
I probably don’t need to describe the ambush that followed. Darren dragging poor Joe out of the car, into the kitchen. Sitting him down, asking him hundreds of questions. And Joe sitting there, it dawning on him that his girlfriend has vanished. You are his life, Bea. You know that. And of all people, Darren was telling him that his life had walked out the door. Buh-bye.
Even though Darren yelled at Joe to look at him, only him, Joe kept looking over to me, begging me to tell him this wasn’t really happening, that I had a secret message from you, the coordinates of a meeting place where you’d be waiting.
All I could do was shake my head.
Eventually, Mom and Darren were satisfied by Joe’s cluelessness. And you know what? The fact that Joe was in the dark pissed them off more. Like they were outraged at how unfair you were being to him, as if they’ve always been the biggest Joe fans in the world. And in fairness, they probably do like him better than they like either you or me. But that’s not exactly an achievement.
Mom actually said to Joe, “Now you see what a liar she can be,” as if they were on the same side, as if she was giving him some motherly advice. I didn’t get it at all. But, of course, from the moment Mom started dating Darren, I gave up on figuring her out. And figuring out Darren is way too easy, and not very helpful. When things don’t go his way, he yells. As you know.
I politely mentioned that it was time to go to school, so I needed to run upstairs and get my stuff. I felt bad about leaving Joe alone with Mom and Darren, but there didn’t seem to be any way around it.
The minute I got to my room, I knew exactly where to look. I’m guessing you thought it would take me longer, but it didn’t. You know exactly what I found. And what I didn’t find.
Look, I don’t blame you for taking the money. I’m not at all surprised that you took the money. In fact, I’m going to confess to you that I have more than one hiding place. You knew about the hiding place I told you about, and I never put anything in there that I wasn’t okay with you stealing. (I’m not going to call it borrowing, although I’m sure that’s the way you want me to think of it. I am not expecting any of it back.)
The big question, as I was lifting out the tray of baseball cards, wasn’t whether you’d robbed your little brother. It was whether you’d left me something in return.
And you had. This email address.
I’ll admit, I didn’t even know there was such a thing as ymail. I will make sure no one else knows about this address, and (as you see) I’ve made up my own return address, only for you. I understand the rules of engagement here. If you’d left without giving me any way to contact you, I wouldn’t have ever forgiven you. Ever. But this is okay, I think. As long as you tell me what happened.
Mom and Darren were too busy asking Joe questions to notice me slipping back into the kitchen. To Joe’s credit, he was asking questions right back—had they called the police? Had they tried Sloane? Was either of their cars missing?
That last question sent Darren flying from the room, with a look that made it clear he would hold Joe personally responsible if either of the cars was gone. While he checked, Mom said that no, nobody was going to call the police. Beatrix wasn’t abducted. She wasn’t in danger. Or if she was in danger, it was her own damn fault.
“We have to get to school,” I r
epeated.
But we weren’t going to be cleared to go until Darren was back, saying the cars were safe in the garage. I didn’t point out that both sets of keys were sitting on the kitchen counter, which would have saved him a trip.
Joe and I were free to go. We didn’t say anything as we walked to the car. We were still afraid Mom and Darren might hear us. It was only when we were safe in the car and I was putting on my seat belt that Joe asked, “Is she really gone?”
And I had to say, yeah, it sure looked like it.
I was mad at you then. Because Joe was trembling. He didn’t want me to see him cry. He didn’t want to be that guy, not in his own car. But there we were, me sitting in the seat that was always yours. It was like you’d sent me to break up with him, and it didn’t matter that you’d dumped me too. Because Joe was the one you were supposed to take along and didn’t. It’s clear you didn’t even ask. I’m not quite sure what he did to deserve that.