Instructions for Dancing by Nicola Yoon EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Nicola Yoon
- Language: English
- Genre: Teen & Young Adult Emotions & Feelings Fiction eBooks
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
A Better Version of Me
BOOKS DON’T WORK their magic on me anymore. It used to be that if I was
in a funk or in the barren hinterland between sad and mad, I could just pluck
any random one from my favorites shelf and settle into my fuzzy pink chair
for a good read. By chapter three—chapter four at the very latest—I’d be
These days, though, the books are nothing but letters arranged into
correctly spelled words, arranged into grammatically correct sentences and
well-structured paragraphs and thematically cohesive chapters. They’re no
longer magical and transporting.
In a past life I was a librarian, so my books are arranged by genre. Until
I started giving them away, the Contemporary Romance section was the
biggest. My favorite of all time is Cupcakes and Kisses. I pull it down from
my shelf and flip through it, giving it one last shot to be magical. The best
scene is when the no-nonsense head chef and the sexy, constantly brooding
line cook with the mysterious past have a food fight in the kitchen. They both
end up covered in flour and icing. There’s kissing and a lot of dessert-related
Six months ago this scene would have made me gooey inside. (See what
I did there?)
Now, though? Nothing.
And since the words haven’t changed from the last time I read them, I
have to admit the problem isn’t the book.
The problem is me.
I close the book and stack it on top of the others I’m giving away. One
last trip to the library tomorrow and all my romances will be gone.
Just as I start putting them in my backpack, Mom pokes her head into
my room. Her eyes travel a circuit from my face, down to the tower of books,
up to the four empty rows on my shelf, and then back to my face.
She frowns and looks like she wants to say something, but then she
doesn’t. Instead, she stretches out her hand and pushes her phone toward me.
“It’s your father,” she says.
I shake my head so hard my braids whip around my face.
She jabs the phone my way again. “Take it. Take it,” she mouths.
“No, no, no,” I mouth back.
I’ve never seen two mimes arguing, but I imagine it would look
something like this.
She moves out of the doorway and all the way into my room. I have just
enough space to dart around her, so I do. I sprint down our small hallway and
lock myself in the bathroom.
Mom’s inevitable knock comes ten seconds later.
I open the door.
She looks at me and sighs.
I sigh back at her.
Most of our communication these days comes in the form of these small
exhalations. Hers are Frustrated and Long Suffering and Exasperated and
Impatient and Disappointed.
Mine are Confused.
“Yvette Antoinette Thomas,” she says. “How long are you going to keep
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