“…some changes happen deep down inside of you. And the truth is, only you know about them. Maybe that’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
“…this two-way hatred. I don’t understand it. I wonder how much of it is caused by fear?”
Davey Wexler has never felt so alone. Her father has just been killed—shot in a holdup at the 7-Eleven near their home. And now her mother has transplanted her and her little brother, Jason, to Los Alamos, New Mexico, to stay with family and recover.
But Davey is withdrawn, full of rage and fear and loneliness. Then one day, while exploring a canyon, she meets an older boy who calls himself Wolf. Wolf is the only one who understands her—the only one who can read her sad eyes. And he is the one who helps her realize that she must find a way to move forward with her life.
Davey is one of Judy Blume’s most hauntingly true human beings, capturing the deep ways a person can change that can’t be seen—only felt. Her story has been felt, deeply, by readers for decades.
I reread this old friend last Sunday afternoon. I read this several times as a preteen and teen. What struck me as I read this time around at almost half a century (GASP) Is that I was really taking in the loss of the husband part more intently and also the anger of and healing of Davey the main character is done extraordinarily. It’s a good portrait of grief, and still stands true today.
Peace.
