The Distance to Home

The Distance to Home

“Recommend this poignant novel to fans of  Keeping Score  by Linda Sue Park and The Thing About Jellyfish  by Ali Benjamin” ( School Library Journal ). It’s a heartwarming celebration of sisterhood and summertime, and of finding the courage to get back in the game. Last summer, Quinnen was the star pitcher of her baseball team, the Panthers. They were headed for the championship, and her loudest supporter at every game was her best friend and older sister, Haley.    This summer, everything is different. Haley’s death, at the end of last summer, has left Quinnen and her parents reeling. Without Haley in the stands, Quinnen doesn’t want to play baseball. It seems like nothing can fill the Haley-sized hole in her world. The one glimmer of happiness comes from the Bandits, the local minor-league baseball team. For the first time, Quinnen and her family are hosting one of the players for the season. Without her sister, Quinnen’s not sure it will be any fun, but soon she befriends a few players. With their help, can she make peace with the past and return to the pitcher’s mound? A Bank Street College of Education and Children’s Book Committee Best Children’s Books of the Year “A piercing first novel. . . . Bishop insightfully examines the tested relationships among grieving family members and friends in a story of resilience, forgiveness, and hope.” — Publishers Weekly “With appeal to both sports- and drama-minded girls, this will make a good book club selection and pass-it-among-your-friends read.” — The Bulletin “Recommend this poignant novel to fans of  Keeping Score  by Linda Sue Park and The Thing About Jellyfish  by Ali Benjamin.” — School Library Journal “A piercing first novel. . . . Bishop insightfully examines the tested relationships among grieving family members and friends in a story of resilience, forgiveness, and hope.” — Publishers Weekly “With appeal to both sports- and drama-minded girls, this will make a good book club selection and pass-it-among-your-friends read.” — The Bulletin Jenn Bishop is also the author of  14 Hollow Road and is a former youth services and teen librarian. She is a graduate of the University of Chicago, where she studied English, and the Vermont College of Fine Arts, where she received her MFA in Writing for Children and Young Adults. Along with her husband and cat, Jenn lives in Cincinnati. Visit her online at JennBishop.com or on Twitter at @buffalojenn. 1     {this summer}     I used to think if you got woken up in the middle of the night, you needed to watch out. In movies and books, bad things only happen in the middle of the night.   But it’s not true. Something bad can happen in the middle of a perfectly sunny day.   When Dad starts up the truck, the red numbers on the dashboard clock surprise me. It’s nearly 2:00 a.m. He hums to himself, lost in his own world. He didn’t used to be like this. Sometimes it seems like Dad from last summer and Dad from this summer are two totally different people.   Dad from this summer doesn’t tell me where we’re going or why he told me ten minutes ago to get dressed and meet him outside. Only that it was a good surprise. Whatever that means. It’s been a long time since we got a good surprise.   After a few minutes of quiet, Dad turns on the radio. In the middle of the night out here, there’s never much on except for After Midnight, this show where people call in to dedicate songs to people they loved until something went wrong.   “Our caller tonight is Abby,” the DJ says. “Tell us your story.”   “Sure. Two years ago, I met the love of my life in line at the grocery store. How cheesy is that? I know, right? We spent every waking moment together, and six months later he proposed. We were supposed to get married this weekend, but Trevor had a heart attack when he was running a marathon two months ago.”   Dad reaches his hand out to turn the radio off. “Don’t,” I whisper. He puts his hand back on the steering wheel and sighs.   “He didn’t make it,” Abby says. “I miss him so much. I think about him all the time. Can you play Bette Midler’s ‘The Wind Beneath My Wings’ in honor of him?”   “Going out to Trevor, wherever you are, from Abby,” the DJ says, and the song starts to play.   I found the radio show one night when I couldn’t sleep. Dad and Mom don’t know that I plug my headphones into the old stereo in my room and listen after they go to bed. It helps, hearing other people’s stories.   “The song won’t bring him back,” Dad mutters under his breath.   It’s not supposed to, I want to tell him. That’s not the point. But we never talk about this stuff anymore. It feels like Mom and Dad think I’m done talking about it, after my appointments with Miss Ella and her cracked orange leather chair and that plant she always forgot to water. But I wasn’t ready then. I barely got started.   I tap my fingers on the side of the door along with the song. “Where are we going?” My voice is shaky, like I haven’t used it in