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Extrait :
BRTHDAE UISH
“MOVIE NIGHT OR Honor Pictionary or Book Club?” my mom asks while inflating a blood pressure cuff around my arm. She doesn’t mention her favorite of all our post-dinner activities—Phonetic Scrabble. I look up to see that her eyes are already laughing at me.
“Phonetic,” I say.
She stops inflating the cuff. Ordinarily Carla, my full-time nurse, would be taking my blood pressure and filling out my daily health log, but my mom’s given her the day off. It’s my birthday and we always spend the day together, just the two of us.
She puts on her stethoscope so that she can listen to my heartbeat. Her smile fades and is replaced by her more serious doctor’s face. This is the face her patients most often see— slightly distant, professional, and concerned. I wonder if they find it comforting.
Impulsively I give her a quick kiss on the forehead to remind her that it’s just me, her favorite patient, her daughter.
She opens her eyes, smiles, and caresses my cheek. I guess if you’re going to be born with an illness that requires constant care, then it’s good to have your mom as your doctor.
A few seconds later she gives me her best I’m-the-doctor- and-I’m-afraid-I-have-some-bad-news-for-you face. “It’s your big day. Why don’t we play something you have an actual chance of winning? Honor Pictionary?”
Since regular Pictionary can’t really be played with two people, we invented Honor Pictionary. One person draws and the other person is on her honor to make her best guess. If you guess correctly, the other person scores.
I narrow my eyes at her. “We’re playing Phonetic, and I’m winning this time,” I say confidently, though I have no chance of winning. In all our years of playing Phonetic Scrabble, or Fonetik Skrabbl, I’ve never beaten her at it. The last time we played I came close. But then she devastated me on the final word, playing JEENZ on a triple word score.
“OK.” She shakes her head with mock pity. “Anything you want.” She closes her laughing eyes to listen to the stethoscope.
We spend the rest of the morning baking my traditional birthday cake of vanilla sponge with vanilla cream frosting. After it’s cooled, I apply an unreasonably thin layer of frosting, just enough to cover the cake. We are, both of us, cake people, not frosting people. For decoration, I draw eighteen frosted daisies with white petals and a white center across the top. On the sides I fashion draped white curtains.
“Perfect.” My mom peers over my shoulders as I finish up. “Just like you.”
I turn to face her. She’s smiling a wide, proud smile at me, but her eyes are bright with tears.
“You. Are. Tragic,” I say, and squirt a dollop of frosting on her nose, which only makes her laugh and cry some more. Really, she’s not usually this emotional, but something about my birthday always makes her both weepy and joyful at the same time. And if she’s weepy and joyful, then I’m weepy and joyful, too.
“I know,” she says, throwing her hands helplessly up in the air. “I’m totally pathetic.” She pulls me into a hug and squeezes. Frosting gets into my hair.
My birthday is the one day of the year that we’re both most acutely aware of my illness. It’s the acknowledging of the passage of time that does it. Another whole year of being sick, no hope for a cure on the horizon. Another year of missing all the normal teenagery things—learner’s permit, first kiss, prom, first heartbreak, first fender bender. Another year of my mom doing nothing but working and taking care of me. Every other day these omissions are easy—easier, at least—to ignore.
This year is a little harder than the previous. Maybe it’s because I’m eighteen now. Technically, I’m an adult. I should be leaving home, going off to college. My mom should be dreading empty-nest syndrome. But because of SCID, I’m not going anywhere.
Later, after dinner, she gives me a beautiful set of watercolor pencils that had been on my wish list for months. We go into the living room and sit cross-legged in front of the coffee table. This is also part of our birthday ritual: She lights a single candle in the center of the cake. I close my eyes and make a wish. I blow the candle out.
“What did you wish for?” she asks as soon as I open my eyes.
Really there’s only one thing to wish for—a magical cure that will allow me to run free outside like a wild animal. But I never make that wish because it’s impossible. It’s like wishing that mermaids and dragons and unicorns were real. Instead I wish for something more likely than a cure. Something less likely to make us both sad.
“World peace,” I say.
Three slices of cake later, we begin a game of Fonetik. I do not win. I don’t even come close.
She uses all seven letters and puts down POKALIP next to an S. POKALIPS.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Apocalypse,” she says, eyes dancing.
“No, Mom. No way. I can’t give that to you.”
“Yes,” is all she says.
“Mom, you need an extra A. No way.”
“Pokalips,” she says for effect, gesturing at the letters. “It totally works.”
I shake my head.
“P O K A L I P S,” she insists, slowly dragging out the word.
“Oh my God, you’re relentless,” I say, throwing my hands up. “OK, OK, I’ll allow it.”
“Yesssss.” She pumps her fist and laughs at me and marks down her now-insurmountable score. “You’ve never really understood this game,” she says. “It’s a game of persuasion.”
I slice myself another piece of cake. “That was not persuasion,” I say. “That was cheating.”
“Same same,” she says, and we both laugh.
“You can beat me at Honor Pictionary tomorrow,” she says.
After I lose, we go to the couch and watch our favorite movie, Young Frankenstein. Watching it is also part of our birthday ritual. I put my head in her lap, and she strokes my hair, and we laugh at the same jokes in the same way that we’ve been laughing at them for years. All in all, not a bad way to spend your eighteenth birthday.
Revue de presse :
“MOVIE NIGHT OR Honor Pictionary or Book Club?” my mom asks while inflating a blood pressure cuff around my arm. She doesn’t mention her favorite of all our post-dinner activities—Phonetic Scrabble. I look up to see that her eyes are already laughing at me.
“Phonetic,” I say.
She stops inflating the cuff. Ordinarily Carla, my full-time nurse, would be taking my blood pressure and filling out my daily health log, but my mom’s given her the day off. It’s my birthday and we always spend the day together, just the two of us.
She puts on her stethoscope so that she can listen to my heartbeat. Her smile fades and is replaced by her more serious doctor’s face. This is the face her patients most often see— slightly distant, professional, and concerned. I wonder if they find it comforting.
Impulsively I give her a quick kiss on the forehead to remind her that it’s just me, her favorite patient, her daughter.
She opens her eyes, smiles, and caresses my cheek. I guess if you’re going to be born with an illness that requires constant care, then it’s good to have your mom as your doctor.
A few seconds later she gives me her best I’m-the-doctor- and-I’m-afraid-I-have-some-bad-news-for-you face. “It’s your big day. Why don’t we play something you have an actual chance of winning? Honor Pictionary?”
Since regular Pictionary can’t really be played with two people, we invented Honor Pictionary. One person draws and the other person is on her honor to make her best guess. If you guess correctly, the other person scores.
I narrow my eyes at her. “We’re playing Phonetic, and I’m winning this time,” I say confidently, though I have no chance of winning. In all our years of playing Phonetic Scrabble, or Fonetik Skrabbl, I’ve never beaten her at it. The last time we played I came close. But then she devastated me on the final word, playing JEENZ on a triple word score.
“OK.” She shakes her head with mock pity. “Anything you want.” She closes her laughing eyes to listen to the stethoscope.
We spend the rest of the morning baking my traditional birthday cake of vanilla sponge with vanilla cream frosting. After it’s cooled, I apply an unreasonably thin layer of frosting, just enough to cover the cake. We are, both of us, cake people, not frosting people. For decoration, I draw eighteen frosted daisies with white petals and a white center across the top. On the sides I fashion draped white curtains.
“Perfect.” My mom peers over my shoulders as I finish up. “Just like you.”
I turn to face her. She’s smiling a wide, proud smile at me, but her eyes are bright with tears.
“You. Are. Tragic,” I say, and squirt a dollop of frosting on her nose, which only makes her laugh and cry some more. Really, she’s not usually this emotional, but something about my birthday always makes her both weepy and joyful at the same time. And if she’s weepy and joyful, then I’m weepy and joyful, too.
“I know,” she says, throwing her hands helplessly up in the air. “I’m totally pathetic.” She pulls me into a hug and squeezes. Frosting gets into my hair.
My birthday is the one day of the year that we’re both most acutely aware of my illness. It’s the acknowledging of the passage of time that does it. Another whole year of being sick, no hope for a cure on the horizon. Another year of missing all the normal teenagery things—learner’s permit, first kiss, prom, first heartbreak, first fender bender. Another year of my mom doing nothing but working and taking care of me. Every other day these omissions are easy—easier, at least—to ignore.
This year is a little harder than the previous. Maybe it’s because I’m eighteen now. Technically, I’m an adult. I should be leaving home, going off to college. My mom should be dreading empty-nest syndrome. But because of SCID, I’m not going anywhere.
Later, after dinner, she gives me a beautiful set of watercolor pencils that had been on my wish list for months. We go into the living room and sit cross-legged in front of the coffee table. This is also part of our birthday ritual: She lights a single candle in the center of the cake. I close my eyes and make a wish. I blow the candle out.
“What did you wish for?” she asks as soon as I open my eyes.
Really there’s only one thing to wish for—a magical cure that will allow me to run free outside like a wild animal. But I never make that wish because it’s impossible. It’s like wishing that mermaids and dragons and unicorns were real. Instead I wish for something more likely than a cure. Something less likely to make us both sad.
“World peace,” I say.
Three slices of cake later, we begin a game of Fonetik. I do not win. I don’t even come close.
She uses all seven letters and puts down POKALIP next to an S. POKALIPS.
“What’s that?” I ask.
“Apocalypse,” she says, eyes dancing.
“No, Mom. No way. I can’t give that to you.”
“Yes,” is all she says.
“Mom, you need an extra A. No way.”
“Pokalips,” she says for effect, gesturing at the letters. “It totally works.”
I shake my head.
“P O K A L I P S,” she insists, slowly dragging out the word.
“Oh my God, you’re relentless,” I say, throwing my hands up. “OK, OK, I’ll allow it.”
“Yesssss.” She pumps her fist and laughs at me and marks down her now-insurmountable score. “You’ve never really understood this game,” she says. “It’s a game of persuasion.”
I slice myself another piece of cake. “That was not persuasion,” I say. “That was cheating.”
“Same same,” she says, and we both laugh.
“You can beat me at Honor Pictionary tomorrow,” she says.
After I lose, we go to the couch and watch our favorite movie, Young Frankenstein. Watching it is also part of our birthday ritual. I put my head in her lap, and she strokes my hair, and we laugh at the same jokes in the same way that we’ve been laughing at them for years. All in all, not a bad way to spend your eighteenth birthday.
“Gorgeous and lyrical.” --The New York Times Book Review
"[A] fresh, moving debut."--Entertainment Weekly, A-
"YA book lovers, your newest obsession is here."--MTV.com
★ "This heartwarming story transcends the ordinary by exploring the hopes, dreams, and inherent risks of love in all of its forms." —Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review
★"Everything, Everything is wonderful, wonderful."—SLJ, Starred Review
“I give all the stars in the sky to Nicola Yoon's sparkling debut. Everything, Everything is everything, everything—powerful, lovely, heart-wrenching, and so absorbing I devoured it in one sitting. It’s a wonder. The rare novel that lifts and shatters and fills you all at once.” —Jennifer Niven, New York Times bestselling author of All the Bright Places
“With her stunning debut, Everything, Everything, Nicola Yoon has constructed an entirely unique and beautiful reading experience. Gorgeous writing meshes with original artwork to tell a love story like no other. You’ve never read a book like this.” —David Arnold, author of Mosquitoland
“Everything, Everything has everything . . . romance, heart, and intelligence. Nicola Yoon's book and voice stayed with me long after I finished reading.” —Danielle Paige, New York Times bestselling author of Dorothy Must Die
“There's a quiet beauty about Everything, Everything that kept me captivated from start to finish. Olly and Madeline's love story stole my heart.”--Katie McGarry, author of Nowhere But Here
"This extraordinary first novel about love so strong it might kill us is too good to feel like a debut. Tender, creative, beautifully written, and with a great twist, Everything, Everything is one of the best books I've read this year." --Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times Bestselling author of Leaving Time
"A do-not-miss for fans of John Green and Rainbow Rowell (aka everyone)."--Justine Magazine
"A vibrant, thrilling, and, ultimately, wholly original tale that's bound to be an instant hit."--Bustle.com
"This is an easy romance to get caught up in."--Publishers Weekly
"Deeply satisfying."--The Bulletin
"Nicola Yoon’s first novel will give you butterflies."--Seventeen
“Not only was I totally hooked . . . by the end I was totally blown away.”—Arun Rath, NPR Weekend’s All Things Considered
“Heartwarming and inventive.”—Mashable.com
“Readers will root for the precocious Maddy as she falls hard for the boy next door . . . teens in search of a swoonworthy read will devour.”--Booklist
“It’s tempting to drop everything everything once you’ve begun . . . it’s hard not to be consumed by this tale of doomed love.” The Times, London
"I just couldn't put it down . . . If you’re a fan of The Fault in Our Stars, If I Stay or Before I Die, then this book is for you."--TheGuardian.com
**
Named one of the Best Books of the Year by:
Amazon
B&N Teen Blog
Hudson Booksellers
The Miami Herald
School Library Journal
A #1 New York Times bestseller
A #1 Publishers Weekly bestseller
A #1 Indie bestseller
A USA Today bestseller
A Wall Street Journal bestseller
A New York Public Library Best Book for Teens
An Indies Introduce selection
Selected as one of the Best Multicultural Books of the Year by the Center for the Study Multicultural Children’s Literature
Praise for the Everything, Everything movie!
“This tearjerker gives you feels you haven’t experienced since The Fault in Our Stars.”—Cosmopolitan
“#RELATIONSHIPGOALS”—Justine Magazine
“Sweetly romantic.”—Crystal Bell /MTV News
“A love story that will span all ages!”—Maria Salas /America TeVe
“Watch out world, a star is born with Amandla Stenberg.”—Shawn Edwards /FOX-TV
“A very sweet and tender teen romance.”—Mose Persico /CTV Montreal
“It is EVERYTHING . . . and then some!”—Ojinika Obiekwe /WPIX “Morning News”
“Amandla Stenberg is lovely and compelling, a definite star to watch.”—Rachel Simon /Bustle
“The chemistry between Amandla Stenberg and Nick Robinson flies off the screen and has you rooting for them from beginning to end.”—Erin Gross /Fangirlish
“Everything, Everything will make you cry tears of happiness and sadness.”—Mehera Booner /MarieClaire.com
“If you're not already crushing on Nick Robinson, you will be after this.”—Kelsie Gibson /PopSugar
“Everything, Everything is literally EVERYTHING!”—Matthew Hoffman /Regal Cinemas
“Amandla Stenberg is brilliant.”—Lindsey Smith /Teen.com
“The sweet and undeniable chemistry between breakout stars Amandla Stenberg and Nick Robinson makes Everything, Everything a must-see.”—Sharon Tharp /JustJared
“Everything, Everything will make you clutch your heart.” —Kerensa Cadenas /Complex
“Everything, Everything is the best teen drama to come around in a long time.”—Avery Thompson /HollywoodLife.com
“A vivid and ambitious adaptation of the beloved novel.”—Kate Erbland /IndieWire
“Everything, Everything is everything times two.”—Xilla Valentine /GlobalGrind.com
“A fantastic film about love that takes your breath away.”—Jasmine Simpkins /HipHollywood.com
“Amandla and Nick's performance is a great reminder that it's worth taking big risks for love.”—Nina Hajian /92.3 AMP Radio’s Shoboy In The Morning
“Everything, Everything will leave you feeling happy.”—Shaylee Henning /KCKC-FM
“It makes you reflect on the relationships in your life.”—Tight Pants /KSLZ-FM/iHeartRadio
"[A] fresh, moving debut."--Entertainment Weekly, A-
"YA book lovers, your newest obsession is here."--MTV.com
★ "This heartwarming story transcends the ordinary by exploring the hopes, dreams, and inherent risks of love in all of its forms." —Kirkus Reviews, Starred Review
★"Everything, Everything is wonderful, wonderful."—SLJ, Starred Review
“I give all the stars in the sky to Nicola Yoon's sparkling debut. Everything, Everything is everything, everything—powerful, lovely, heart-wrenching, and so absorbing I devoured it in one sitting. It’s a wonder. The rare novel that lifts and shatters and fills you all at once.” —Jennifer Niven, New York Times bestselling author of All the Bright Places
“With her stunning debut, Everything, Everything, Nicola Yoon has constructed an entirely unique and beautiful reading experience. Gorgeous writing meshes with original artwork to tell a love story like no other. You’ve never read a book like this.” —David Arnold, author of Mosquitoland
“Everything, Everything has everything . . . romance, heart, and intelligence. Nicola Yoon's book and voice stayed with me long after I finished reading.” —Danielle Paige, New York Times bestselling author of Dorothy Must Die
“There's a quiet beauty about Everything, Everything that kept me captivated from start to finish. Olly and Madeline's love story stole my heart.”--Katie McGarry, author of Nowhere But Here
"This extraordinary first novel about love so strong it might kill us is too good to feel like a debut. Tender, creative, beautifully written, and with a great twist, Everything, Everything is one of the best books I've read this year." --Jodi Picoult, #1 New York Times Bestselling author of Leaving Time
"A do-not-miss for fans of John Green and Rainbow Rowell (aka everyone)."--Justine Magazine
"A vibrant, thrilling, and, ultimately, wholly original tale that's bound to be an instant hit."--Bustle.com
"This is an easy romance to get caught up in."--Publishers Weekly
"Deeply satisfying."--The Bulletin
"Nicola Yoon’s first novel will give you butterflies."--Seventeen
“Not only was I totally hooked . . . by the end I was totally blown away.”—Arun Rath, NPR Weekend’s All Things Considered
“Heartwarming and inventive.”—Mashable.com
“Readers will root for the precocious Maddy as she falls hard for the boy next door . . . teens in search of a swoonworthy read will devour.”--Booklist
“It’s tempting to drop everything everything once you’ve begun . . . it’s hard not to be consumed by this tale of doomed love.” The Times, London
"I just couldn't put it down . . . If you’re a fan of The Fault in Our Stars, If I Stay or Before I Die, then this book is for you."--TheGuardian.com
**
Named one of the Best Books of the Year by:
Amazon
B&N Teen Blog
Hudson Booksellers
The Miami Herald
School Library Journal
A #1 New York Times bestseller
A #1 Publishers Weekly bestseller
A #1 Indie bestseller
A USA Today bestseller
A Wall Street Journal bestseller
A New York Public Library Best Book for Teens
An Indies Introduce selection
Selected as one of the Best Multicultural Books of the Year by the Center for the Study Multicultural Children’s Literature
Praise for the Everything, Everything movie!
“This tearjerker gives you feels you haven’t experienced since The Fault in Our Stars.”—Cosmopolitan
“#RELATIONSHIPGOALS”—Justine Magazine
“Sweetly romantic.”—Crystal Bell /MTV News
“A love story that will span all ages!”—Maria Salas /America TeVe
“Watch out world, a star is born with Amandla Stenberg.”—Shawn Edwards /FOX-TV
“A very sweet and tender teen romance.”—Mose Persico /CTV Montreal
“It is EVERYTHING . . . and then some!”—Ojinika Obiekwe /WPIX “Morning News”
“Amandla Stenberg is lovely and compelling, a definite star to watch.”—Rachel Simon /Bustle
“The chemistry between Amandla Stenberg and Nick Robinson flies off the screen and has you rooting for them from beginning to end.”—Erin Gross /Fangirlish
“Everything, Everything will make you cry tears of happiness and sadness.”—Mehera Booner /MarieClaire.com
“If you're not already crushing on Nick Robinson, you will be after this.”—Kelsie Gibson /PopSugar
“Everything, Everything is literally EVERYTHING!”—Matthew Hoffman /Regal Cinemas
“Amandla Stenberg is brilliant.”—Lindsey Smith /Teen.com
“The sweet and undeniable chemistry between breakout stars Amandla Stenberg and Nick Robinson makes Everything, Everything a must-see.”—Sharon Tharp /JustJared
“Everything, Everything will make you clutch your heart.” —Kerensa Cadenas /Complex
“Everything, Everything is the best teen drama to come around in a long time.”—Avery Thompson /HollywoodLife.com
“A vivid and ambitious adaptation of the beloved novel.”—Kate Erbland /IndieWire
“Everything, Everything is everything times two.”—Xilla Valentine /GlobalGrind.com
“A fantastic film about love that takes your breath away.”—Jasmine Simpkins /HipHollywood.com
“Amandla and Nick's performance is a great reminder that it's worth taking big risks for love.”—Nina Hajian /92.3 AMP Radio’s Shoboy In The Morning
“Everything, Everything will leave you feeling happy.”—Shaylee Henning /KCKC-FM
“It makes you reflect on the relationships in your life.”—Tight Pants /KSLZ-FM/iHeartRadio
Les informations fournies dans la section « A propos du livre » peuvent faire référence à une autre édition de ce titre.
- ÉditeurDelacorte Pr
- Date d'édition2015
- ISBN 10 0553496654
- ISBN 13 9780553496659
- ReliureBelle reliure
- Nombre de pages306
- IllustrateurYoon David
- Evaluation vendeur
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Description du livre Library Binding. Etat : Good. No Jacket. Pages can have notes/highlighting. Spine may show signs of wear. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less 0.95. N° de réf. du vendeur G0553496654I3N00
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Description du livre Library Binding. Etat : Good. No Jacket. Pages can have notes/highlighting. Spine may show signs of wear. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less 0.95. N° de réf. du vendeur G0553496654I3N00
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Everything, Everything
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ISBN 13 : 9780553496659
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Description du livre Library Binding. Etat : Good. No Jacket. Former library book; Pages can have notes/highlighting. Spine may show signs of wear. ~ ThriftBooks: Read More, Spend Less 0.95. N° de réf. du vendeur G0553496654I3N10
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