Mandy Hubbard: Ripple

Cole really did break my curse.

With each sunset, it gets easier to believe that the curse is really broken, easier to look forward instead of back. I’ll do things just as I always said—go to college, find a way to give back to the world the things I took.

I step forward, brush my fingers against the top of the grave marker. I’m not sure I can meet Cole’s eyes. “Talking to Steven is the only thing that kept me sane these couple of years.” I chew on my lip. “Which is kind of ridiculous, since killing him is what broke me in the first place.”

“It’s not ridiculous.” Silence. And then, “You know it’s not your fault, right? You’re not a murderer. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

I blink. I know that, even though sometimes I question it. I always will. Yet hearing Cole say it aloud is comforting.

“You okay?” he asks.

I turn to face him, smiling a little. I wonder if he’ll ever stop asking me that. “Yeah. Can you give me a second?”

Cole nods, steps away, and goes to stand under the weeping willow. It’s bare now, what’s left of its thin leaves littering the lawn between the graves.

I crouch in front of the grave. There’s nothing left to say to him, because I’ve already told him everything I can. I’ve apologized, I’ve cried, I’ve made promises. I’ve told him every secret, every ache. He’s been there for me in a way no one else could be.

But the words don’t matter anymore.

It’s time to move on.

I exhale a ragged breath of air as I stand, pressing my fingers to my lips, and then brush them against the cold marble of his grave.

“ Good-bye, Steven. ”

This time, I mean it.

Every time I write an acknowledgments page, it’s different. But there is one constant: My agent Zoe, who is my fiercest advocate, and the one who keeps me from going crazy during the process of making a book. Thank you for all that you do—and for not slapping me with a dead fish by now.

I must also sincerely thank my editor, Jocelyn. This book was acquired before you joined Razorbill, and I was terrified you wouldn’t have the same passion for Lexi and her story, but my worries were unwarranted. I cannot even imagine what this book would look like if it weren’t for your input. You kicked my butt, and for that, I thank you. My sincerest, gratitude, also, to Gillian for your input during edits.

Thank you, as well, to Ben, who wanted nothing to do with “a mermaid book,” but gave Ripple a chance anyway.

For Billy, Sammy, and Bridget, thank you for coming through at a moment’s notice and pointing out where the story jumped the shark.

And Cyn, as always, I appreciate your honesty—and your ability to be blunt as hell. My career is better because I know you.

My love to my husband, who left the house time and again with our daughter just to give me time to write; this book would have come out sometime in 2035 if it weren’t for you. Your love and support mean the world to me.

Finally, thank you to my readers, who cared enough to email me about Prada And Prejudice or You Wish . Your emails never fail to make my day.