More Happy Than Not
by
Adam Silvera
Praise for More Happy Than Not
“Silvera, like [Benjamin Alire Sáenz], is a beautiful writer. Aaron’s story is heart-wrenching, funny, inspirational, and eye-opening. This is a really special novel from an extremely gifted new writer.”
— Bustle
“Silvera’s debut is equal parts gut-punch and warm hug, not to mention sweet, funny, creative, and a really welcome entry to YA with regard to having characters coming from a lower socioeconomic background.”
— BN.com
“Adam Silvera’s debut novel, More Happy Than Not has everything a reader could want: a cool setting, intriguing characters, and a romance that’s more than just your average love story.”
— Hypable
“Silvera’s debut novel asks some intense questions about love and sexuality… A stunning novel.”
— Huffington Post
“Poignant… So engrossing that once you start it, you won’t be able to put it down. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.”
— TeenVogue.com
“This is a cry-on-the-subway book, so watch out.”
— MTV.com
“Every now and again I read a book that requires me to drink several glasses of water afterward because I’ve cried myself dehydrated. This is one of those books… My goodness, it is incredible.”
— Eric Smith, author of
Inked
“Aaron is one of the most interesting, authentic teen narrators I’ve met, and his story is told with incredible courage and unflinching honesty. Silvera managed to leave me smiling after totally breaking my heart. Unforgettable.”
— Becky Albertalli, author of
Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda
“Adam Silvera explores the inner workings of a painful world and he delivers this with heartfelt honesty and a courageous, confident hand. Combine these with a one-of-a-kind voice and a genius idea, and what you have is a mesmerizing, unforgettable tour de force.”
— John Corey Whaley, Printz-Award winning author of
Where Things Come Back
“Adam Silvera is a voice missing in YA fiction. The honesty of his words and his ability to tell a story make you realize that we’ve been waiting for him. I’m blown away.”
— Holly Goldberg Sloan,
New York Times bestselling author of
Counting by 7s
“A debut as deft as it is sharp, as honest as it is assured, and, above all, extremely moving. Silvera pulls his punches with an energy, daring, and intensity that left me spellbound — and reminded me why I love to read.”
— Adele Griffin, author of T
he Unfinished Life of Addison Stone
“An important new voice in YA literature. In More Happy Than Not Adam Silvera has created a passionate, searing narrative with characters who feel unique and totally familiar. I found myself rooting for Aaron Soto and his family from page one… An unforgettable read.”
— Alex London, author of
Proxy
“Inventive and daring, Silvera’s gritty debut kept me turning pages until 2 a.m. His writing crackles with challenging questions, searing and timely.”
— Aaron Hartzler, author of
Rapture Practice
“Adam Silvera’s More Happy Than Not is a fantastic magic trick I haven’t stopped thinking about since I finished reading and suspect will stay with me for some time to come.”
— Jasmine Warga, author of
My Heart and
Other Black Holes
“Adam Silvera harnesses a certain reckless energy and unleashes it through the voice of Aaron Soto. Aaron Soto is astounding, full of heart, wit, youthful energy, and a deep desire to be honest about who he is in the world. He sinks into your skin so you can’t stop thinking about him even when you aren’t reading. High on story, character, and some perfectly executed twists, I loved this book.”
— David Arnold, author of
Mosquitoland
For those who’ve discovered happiness can be hard.
Shout-out to Luis and Corey, of course, my favorites who
sucker punched me in the best ways.
1
SUCKER-PUNCHING MEMORIES
It turns out the Leteo procedure isn’t bullshit.
The first time I saw a poster on the subway promoting the institute that could make you forget things, I thought it was a marketing campaign for some new science fiction movie. And when I saw the headline “Here Today, Gone Tomorrow!” on the cover of a newspaper, I mistook it as something boring, like the cure for some new flu — I didn’t think they were talking about memories. It rained that weekend, so I hung out with my friends at the Laundromat, chilling in front of the security guard’s old TV. Every single news station was interviewing different representatives of the Leteo Institute to find out more about the “revolutionary science of memory alteration and suppression.”
I called bullshit at the end of each one.
Except now we know the procedure is 100 percent real and 0 percent bullshit because one of our own has gone through it.
That’s what Brendan, my sort of best friend, tells me at least. I know him as much for his honesty as I know Baby Freddy’s mother for her dedication to confirming the gossip that comes her way. (Rumor has it she’s learning basic French because her neighbor down the hall may be having an affair with the married superintendent, and the language barrier is a bit of a block. But, yeah, that’s gossip too.)
“So Leteo is legit?” I sit down by the sandbox no one plays in because of ringworm.
Brendan paces back and forth, dribbling our friend Deon’s basketball between his legs. “That’s why Kyle and his family bounced,” he says. “Fresh start.”
I don’t even have to ask what he forgot. Kyle’s identical twin brother, Kenneth, was gunned down last December for sleeping with this guy Jordan’s younger sister. Kyle was the one who actually slept with her, though. I know grief just fine, but I can’t imagine living day by day with that — knowing the brother I shared a face and secret language with was ripped out of my life when the bullets were meant for me.
“Well, good luck to him, right?”
“Yeah, sure,” Brendan says.
The usual suspects are outside today. Skinny-Dave and Fat-Dave — who are unrelated, just both named Dave — come out of our local bodega, Good Food’s Store, where I’ve been working part-time for the past couple of months. They’re throwing back quarter juices and potato chips. Baby Freddy glides on by with his new steel orange bike, and I remember when we used to give him shit years ago for still needing training wheels — but the joke is on me since my father never got a chance to teach me to ride at all. Me-Crazy is sitting on the ground, having a conversation with the wall; and everyone else, the adults mainly, are preparing for this weekend’s community event of the year.
Family Day.
This will be the first time we’re celebrating Family Day without Kenneth and Kyle, or Brendan’s parents, or my dad. It’s not like Dad and I were gonna have father — son wheelbarrow races or father — son basketball games; besides, Dad always paired up with my brother, Eric. But father — son anything would’ve been better than this. I can’t imagine it’s any easier for Brendan, even though his parents are both alive. It might be worse, since they’re just out of reach in boxy jail cells for separate crimes: his mother for armed robbery, his father for assaulting a police officer after he was caught dealing meth. Now he lives with his grandfather who is thugging it out at eighty-eight.
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