The Art of Goodbye

By Gwendolyn Heasley

The heroine of Where I Belong is back in The Art of Goodbye, a romantic digital original novella about first loves and second chances.

It's Corrinne Corcoran's last night in town before heading off to college, and she's determined it'll be the most epic night ever. She's planned every detail of each hour of the night, from what dresses she'll wear, to what parties she'll hit, to which of her best friends will be with her. But Corrinne's perfect plan for her last night in New York goes awry when she runs into a ghost from her past, and the boy she's never been able to forget—her ex-boyfriend, Bubby, from Broken Spoke. And Corrinne starts to wonder if her expertly planned goodbye to New York City was as perfect as it seemed. . . . Set over the twelve-hour period before Corrinne sets off for college, The Art of Goodbye will make you believe that true love can find you when you're least expecting it . . . again.

Epic Reads Impulse is a digital imprint with new releases each month.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperTeen
• Release date: Mar 4, 2014
• ISBN: 9780062271020

Gwendolyn Heasley

Gwendolyn Heasley is a graduate of Davidson College and earned master’s degrees from the University of Missouri-Columbia and the Vermont College of Fine Arts. Gwendolyn lives in Naples, Florida, the setting of Don’t Call Me Baby, but still misses New York City. She is also the author of two other novels for teens, Where I Belong and A Long Way from You, and a digital original novella, The Art of Goodbye.

Book preview

Prologue

I USED TO OBSESS OVER Kate Middleton. She was my ultimate Celebrity Muse.

I wanted to know how she—a commoner—convinced Prince William, the world’s most eligible royal, to fall in love with her.

I dedicated hours to decoding how she makes off-the-rack Zara look like it’s Prada Couture. That takes serious magic. Believe me, I tried it during the recession.

And I Googled what shampoo Kate uses until I found the end of the Internet. Does anyone know that answer? The royals must lock that secret up along with the crown jewels.

I even dreamed up a freaky-Friday type switch where I’d become Kate for a day. I’d have high tea, curtsey constantly, and dazzle the paparazzi.

I wanted Kate’s life. More specifically, I wanted to be her.

But then I learned something that changed everything.

Kate Middleton had never visited New York City.

Unbelievable, right? But it’s a true fact. I checked three different websites, only one of which was Wikipedia.

After I learned that, it became impossible to remain envious of Kate and her life. I realized she should be the one wanting to switch places with me for a day.

I’ve been to Buckingham Palace—twice—and without a doubt, New York City is more exquisite.

So listen up, Kate. You can keep your ripped-from-the-fairy-tales life, because as certain as I am that I’d be a fantastic princess, I can’t imagine a life without New York.

But when Manhattan has been both your home and your heart for the past eighteen years, how in the world do you ever say goodbye?

To: [e-mail], [e-mail]

Cc: [e-mail]

From: [e-mail]

Subject: Most.Epic.Last.Night.Ever.

Parting is such sweet sorrow.

—William Shakespeare

To my girls,

Tomorrow is our last night together before I head off to Cornell. As you all well know, I’ve been planning this evening since June, and it’s going to be legendary. Below is a copy of my itinerary. There’s very little wiggle room, so please be in the correct places at the assigned times. (Think of it as theater—you don’t want to miss your curtain call.)

Remember: it’s how you say goodbye that counts the most.

Corrinne’s Last Night:

5 p.m.: Obligatory Corcoran Family Time (Ugh!)

6 p.m.: Group Meet at The Archive for Rooftails (Yeah!)

8 p.m.: Corrinne and Benson’s Farewell Dinner at Le Cirque

11 p.m.: Group Meet at Terminal 5 for Hipster Hat Trick Set

2 a.m.: Group Continues Party at the Jane Hotel

5 a.m.: Brooklyn Bridge Kiss (This is just me and Benson, obvs, but isn’t this the most romantic idea ever?)

XO,

Your Corrinne

PS. Kitsy, I wish you were going to be here!

5:32 p.m. Morton Square, West Village, NYC.

CORRINNE! MOM YELLS THROUGH MY bedroom door. Stop staring at yourself and come spend some quality time with your brother and parents.

I take one last look in the full-length mirror, then step over my suitcases and out into the living room.

Maria, our housekeeper, unplugs the vacuum and holds her hand over heart. "Mi corazón, she says. You look so grown-up."

I smooth my cobalt-blue Diane von Furstenberg silk dress. Thanks, I say. I spent every lunch break at my internship agonizing over what I should wear tonight until I discovered this. It’s on point without looking like I tried too hard, which is my fashion signature.

My friend Waverly has a theory that people remember you in one of two outfits: what you wore the first day of high school or what you wore the last time they saw you. When you won’t be with your friends again until winter break, you better dress perfectly on your last night because that’s how you’ll be frozen in everyone’s minds.

My mom gives me an up-down eye stare from the couch. You look nice, she finally says.

Nice is not how I want to be remembered, especially not after I spent the entire summer planning the perfect swan song down to the specific nail polish I would wear.

Good as gold.

I check my iPhone’s clock. I need to make this fast. Tonight is about saying goodbye to my boyfriend, my friends, and, of course, my city. There’s no time to fight with my mom over her backhanded compliments. I’ve spent enough time over the past eighteen years doing that, and I would rather part ways on friendly terms.

My dad, who’s proudly wearing a Cornell Parent sweatshirt (embarrassing!), pats a spot on our couch next to my little brother, Tripp. Come sit with your family before you skip off into the concrete jungle.

Maria pulls me in close. "I can’t believe my little chiquita is off to college. I’m so proud of you."

I’ll miss you, I tell Maria, who’s worked for my family ever since I can remember.

She whispers back: I won’t be there to keep your room clean, so remember that Lysol is your friend.

I laugh and hug Maria one more time before she heads out.

Snuggling into the couch with my family, I look out on the Hudson River and watch a yellow ferry zip across to Jersey City. I’m definitely going to miss this view, I say. My dorm room probably looks out to a parking lot or something equally tragic. Didn’t someone write some long, depressing novel about how sad a room without a view is? That novel’s about to become my life.

Sometimes, I think it’d be easier to leave for college if I hadn’t grown up somewhere so fantastic. For most people, going off to college is an escape, but for me, it feels like a major downgrade.

It’s not going to be the same without you, Tripp says, patting my knee. I actually liked having you home for the summer. Life’s easier on me when you and your antics are here to distract our parents.

"Thanks," I say, reaching over and tussling Tripp’s sun-streaked hair. (Skateboarding has some redeeming qualities.)

I wag my finger at him. If you’re nice to me for the next few minutes, I promise to sneak you into some ridiculous parties during Family Weekend. Just don’t tell Mom and Dad, I say, winking.

My dad laughs and my mom rolls her eyes.

Tripp loudly clears his throat, which has finally stopped crackling from puberty. Excuse me, Corrinne, but I believe you need to have friends to be invited to parties. Simple algebra. A plus B equals C.

Puberty turned him into such a smart aleck. He’s starting to remind me of myself at that age, which is terrifying. Good luck to my parents.

Tripp, I have a friend there already, I argue. My horse, Sweetbread. Hello, she’s the whole reason I’m going to middle-of-nowhere-Cornell.

I had always planned on going to a college in New York City, but the Cornell equestrian coach recruited Sweetbread

Reviews for The Art of Goodbye

[Mariana Maldonado · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

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