Shay, fourteen and queer, just got placed with her fifth foster family in three years. Of course, she’s always angry or about to be, who wouldn’t be? This latest foster family, a rabbi, an accountant, eight-year-old twins, and a big black cat offer Shay another chance at being part of a family.
Shay is the new kid at school for the third time in one year, which is bad enough, but being in eighth grade just complicates things, especially when Shay develops a crush on the cute girl who runs the art club. As much as she tries to stay above the school drama, Shay is sucked into it after she makes yet another anger-fueled bad decision that gets caught on video and goes viral. One bad decision essentially ruins her school life and a budding relationship. It jeopardizes Shay’s placement with the Morgensterns just when they’re finally getting closer.
When Shay gets an apology letter from her estranged father, recently released from prison, she realizes she needs to make a choice. Should she stay with the Morgensterns, or should she give her father another chance? Will her anger issues continue to sabotage any chance at stability?
Excerpt
The Anger Chronicles
Jessie Preisendorfer © 2024 – All Rights Reserved
Chapter One
Things that suck about being a foster kid (incomplete)
Changing schools
Being perpetually behind in school (see #1)
Not knowing the rules and breaking them anyway
Being the “outsider-est” outsider everywhere, even at home
Having to pretend to like everyone in the new family
All of the above happened to me this past year. Three times. There was more that happened to me this year. I was placed with three different foster families, went to three new schools, ran away from one super shitty caseworker (twice), met some stereotypical mean girls, and had a starring role in one viral video that ruined my life.
Things didn’t completely suck 100 percent for once in my shitty life, when, by good luck, which I never had, I met the Morgensterns. (You should know that I don’t believe in luck. I don’t know how else to explain that my placements usually suck, but this one doesn’t. I’m partially at fault for my bad placements—I have “anger issues,” according to my social worker, Rhonda the Craptastic, and I make pretty bad choices, if I’m being completely honest.)
One more thing. I almost died from the smell of bacon drifting into my room. Absolutely starving, I started down the stairs to find the bacon in my brand-new placement and tripped over a big black cat on the landing. Grabbing the railing to prevent plunging to my death, I stopped and sat with this huge cat next to me, staring at me. I tried to remember when I had eaten last—I guessed Thursday. And today was Saturday? Maybe?
I couldn’t stop thinking about the peanut butter sandwich I’d eaten under the train tracks. This was how much of an idiot I was. I could have taken the whole loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter, but no, I packed one whole sandwich to sneak out of my last foster house. Not even an apple or anything. Idiot. (You should know that I’m not an idiot when it comes to school. I’m okay at school, when I go to school. I just “lack common sense,” according to Rhonda the Craptastic, who can rot in hell.)
Happy family sounds rose up from downstairs. That made me so angry I forgot about being hungry for, like, a minute. I wasn’t angry at the family sounds or the family. It wasn’t their fault my shitty social worker called them at midnight last night to come pick me up. I was just angry in general. I didn’t even know why. (You should also know I’m usually angry.) Sometimes, it got my attention, like now—it was there, right below my skin. Just as quickly, I only felt hungry again; the anger had slipped back beneath the surface. I heard a door open behind me.
“I hope you’re hungry. Mrs. Morgenstern always makes a nice breakfast on weekends. I hope Spock didn’t bother you. He doesn’t usually like people. He’s not as hefty as he seems. He’s under tall.” Mr. Morgenstern laughed at his own corny joke as he made his way down the stairs, stepping carefully around Spock, the huge black cat.
I remembered Mr. Morgenstern driving home. He could barely see over the steering wheel. Sitting on the stairs, I thought, He’s under tall too.
He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. Here comes the pep talk. But he simply said, “Come on in when you’re ready. I’ll save you some bacon.”
I was so hungry. So hungry. But I was sitting on the stairs in another new house. With a new family. And new rules. And eventually, new drama. Then a new new family. A burst of laughter came from the kitchen. Suddenly, I was more tired than hungry. So tired. Too tired to even be angry. I went back upstairs to the room on the third floor and crawled back into bed.
Purchase Links
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Meet the Author
Jessie has been performing comedy in her spare time for over twenty-five years, which definitely comes in handy during the day in her job as a high school teacher. She grew up in the Poconos, in a house in the woods on a lake, with very little parental oversight. It was even more dangerous than it sounds, but it was the ’70s. Jessie is a lifelong writer, and with her first novel, she is eager to contribute to the queer YA subgenre. Jessie lives outside Philadelphia with her wife, two cats, and fantasies of days spent volunteering at goat rescues after she retires.
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