![]() ![]() ![]() Now as the skin of my face is left somewhere 10 feet back, my right cheek having taken a hell of a blow on the rough tar rooftop, I also remember something else important. It’s advice I wish I’d remembered back up on that higher roof. She eventually called it, telling me to give it a rest before I hurt something important. She spent hours with me in the backyard one sunny summer day trying to teach me how to do them. I’m pretty sure I did a cartwheel back there somewhere, something I wish my mom could have seen. ![]() I’ve gathered momentum, too much to be useful, just enough to be hurtful, and I tumble head over shoulders over side over elbows onto knees. I tuck and roll the best I can, but gravity is unkind. I’ve done this sort of jump enough to know my limits, to know when I’ll get hurt and when I’ll be fine, and I absolutely know it now. I know it the second my foot leaves the ledge. I may be a Tinkerbell, but I’m definitely Tink when she’s trapped in the lamp gasping for her last breath, begging the world to believe and clap their friggin’ hands. So much badass would be missing from this book were it not for him. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to places or incidents is purely coincidental.įor my husband Lawren who taught me about zombie cage fighting, Characters, names, places, events or incidents are products of the author’s imagination. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing from the author, except as used in book review. ![]()
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