Firefly Lane. Home · Firefly Lane Author: Hannah Kristin. 57 downloads Views KB Size Firefly Lane · Read more · Firefly Lane. Read more · Firefly. Editorial Reviews. webtiekittcenve.cf Review. A Conversation with Kristin Hannah. webtiekittcenve.cf: Why did you choose Seattle as the backdrop for Firefly Lane?. firefly lane kristin hannah pdf. Kristin Hannah (born September 25, ) is an American writer, who has won numerous awards, including the Golden Heart, the .
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firefly lane kristin hannah ups and downs well written highly recommend fly away kate and tully Firefly Lane by Kristin Hannah - PDF free download eBook. Spanning more than three decades and playing out across the ever-changing face of the Pacific Northwest,Firefly Lane is the poignant, powerful story of two. Get Free Read & Download Files Firefly Lane Kristin Hannah PDF. FIREFLY LANE KRISTIN HANNAH. Download: Firefly Lane Kristin Hannah. FIREFLY LANE.
On the surface they are as opposite as two people can be: Kate, doomed to be forever uncool, with a loving family who mortifies her at every turn. Tully, steeped in glamour and mystery, but with a secret that is destroying her. They make a pact to be best friends forever; by summer's end they've become TullyandKate.
So begins Kristin Hannah's magnificent new novel. Spanning more than three decades and playing out across the ever-changing face of the Pacific Northwest, Firefly Lane is the poignant, powerful story of two women and the friendship that becomes the bulkhead of their lives.
From the beginning, Tully is desperate to prove her worth to the world. Abandoned by her mother at an early age, she longs to be loved unconditionally. In the glittering, big-hair era of the eighties, she looks to men to fill the void in her soul. At the first tinkling of the bell, she'd smile and say, "Oh, my," and run for the hallway as fast as her slippered feet would take her.
Tully reached for her yellow-haired Troll. Humming very quietly, she made him dance with Calamity Kiddle to "Daydream Believer. It was such an unexpected sound that Tully paused in her playing and looked up.
Except for Sundays, when Mr. Beattle showed up to take them to church, no one ever came to visit. Gran put her needlework in the pink plastic bag by her chair and got up, crossing the room in that slow, shuffling way that had become normal in the last few years.
When she opened the door, there was a long silence, then she said, "Oh, my. Peering sideways, Tully saw a tall woman with long messy hair and a smile that wouldn't stay in place. She was one of the prettiest women Tully had ever seen: milky skin, a sharp, pointed nose and high cheekbones that slashed above her tiny chin, liquid brown eyes that opened and closed slowly. That meant— "Mommy? She'd waited so long for this, dreamed of it: her mommy coming back.
But she was so happy. Gran closed the door. I came for my daughter. Her mother looked irritated. She was kind of wobbly and her eyes looked funny.
She twirled a strand of long, wavy hair around her finger. Gran moved toward them. Maybe if you moved in here for a while and got to know Tully you'd be ready. Tully winked back. Drunk wasn't so bad.
Her grandpa used to drink lots before he got sick. Even Gran sometimes had a glass of wine. Her heart was racing as she dug through her vanity drawer, scattering her stuff everywhere, looking for the macaroni and bead necklace she'd made her mom at Bible school last year.
Gran had frowned when she saw it, told her not to get her hopes up, but Tully hadn't been able to do that. Her hopes had been up for years. Shoving it in her pocket, she rushed back out, just in time to hear her mommy say, "I'm not drunk, Mother, dear.
I'm with my kid again for the first time in three years. Love is the ultimate high. She was four the last time you dropped her off here. I can help you.
No, thanks. Mommy had come back before? Gran sighed, then stiffened. Come on, Tallulah. Tully frowned. Collapsing into her usual front-row seat—by herself—she kept her head bowed, waiting for the new girl to walk past her, but no one else got on. When the doors thumped shut and the bus lurched forward, she dared to look back at the road. It had taken two hours to choose her clothes this morning—an outfit right out of the pages of Seventeen magazine—and every bit of it was wrong.
When the school bus drove up, she made a split-second decision. Snohomish might be less than an hour from downtown Seattle, but as far as she was concerned, she might as well be on the moon. That was how alien this place felt.
Firefly Lane: A Novel
Hell, no. She marched down the gravel driveway and shoved the front door open so hard it cracked against the wall.
You must be high, she said loudly, realizing a second too late that the only people in the living room were the moving men. One of them paused and looked wearily her way. She pushed past them, grazing the armoire so hard they swore under their breath. Not that she cared. She hated it when she felt like this, all puffed up with anger.
In the master bedroom, her mom was sitting on the floor, cutting pictures out of Cosmo. As usual, her long hair was a wavy, fuzzy nightmare held in check by a grossly out-of-date beaded leather headband. Without looking up, she flipped to the next page, where a naked, grinning Burt Reynolds covered his penis with one hand. Mom flipped to the next page, then reached for her scissors and began cutting out a spray of flowers from a Breck ad.
Tully wanted to scream. Make new ones.
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I heard you were Miss Popular at your old school. Fine, Tallulah. Mom looked up to make sure her point had been made. It had. You know better than that, Tully.
The Bhagavad Gita says. Tully walked away while her mother was still talking. The last thing she wanted to hear was some drug-soaked advice that belonged on a black-light poster. For the next week, Kate watched the new girl from a distance. Tully Hart was boldly, coolly different; brighter, somehow, than everyone else in the faded green hallways. Everyone talked about it.
Kate heard the whispered awe in their voices. Everyone wanted to be friends with her. All she knew was that every morning, as they stood at the bus stop beside each other and yet worlds apart, separated by yawning silence, Kate felt a desperate desire to be acknowledged by Tully. Not that it would ever happen.
What did you say? I made Hamburger Helper for our new neighbors. I want you to take it across the street. Kate tried to think of an excuse, anything that would get her out of this. Things have been crazy lately. Send Sean.
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Neither am I, Kate said miserably. Mom faced her. Now her round, apple-cheeked face looked pale and washed out. Her purple and yellow crocheted vest—a Christmas present from last year—was buttoned wrong. Staring at Kate, she crossed the room and sat down at the table. Can I say something without you jumping all over me?
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Probably not. Of all the things Kate might have expected, that was not even on the list. It matters. Memories rushed at her—Joannie and her on the Octopus ride at the fair, sitting outside their stalls at the barn, talking about how much fun high school would be.
She shrugged. Life is hard sometimes. Especially at fourteen. Kate rolled her eyes. If there was one thing she knew, it was that her mother knew nothing about how hard life could be for a teenager. No shit. Mom dug through the baggy pocket of her skirt and found her cigarettes. Lighting up, she studied Kate.
You know I love you and I support you and I would never let anyone hurt you. What do you mean? You spend all your time reading and doing homework. How are people supposed to get to know you when you act like that? Mom touched her hand gently. So that I can make friends? So that you know you can be whatever you want to be.
Your generation is so lucky.
You can be anything you want. But you have to take a risk sometimes. Reach out. But what could her mother possibly know about the battlefield of junior high popularity? Yeah, right.
Her mom smiled and patted her hand. What are you talking about?
Now go. Make friends with your new neighbor. That would happen. Wear oven mitts. The mitts. Kate went over to the counter and stared down at the red-brown glop of a casserole. Dully, she fitted a sheet of foil across the top, curled the edges down, and then put on the puffy, quilted blue oven mitts her Aunt Georgia had made. At the back door, she slipped her stockinged feet into the fake Earth shoes on the porch and headed down the spongy driveway. The house across the street was long and low to the ground, a rambler-style in an L shape that faced away from the road.
Moss furred the shingled roof. The ivory sides were in need of paint, and the gutters were overflowing with leaves and sticks. Giant rhododendron bushes hid most of the windows, runaway junipers created a green spiky barrier that ran the length of the house. No one had tended to the landscaping in years.
At the front door Kate paused, drawing in a deep breath. Balancing the casserole in one hand, she pulled off one oven mitt and knocked. Please let no one be home. Almost instantly she heard footsteps from inside. The door swung open to reveal a tall woman dressed in a billowy caftan. An Indian-beaded headband circled her forehead. Two mismatched earrings hung from her ears.
Weird, pulsing music seemed to come from several places at once; though the lights were turned off, several lava lamps burped and bubbled in eerie green and red canisters. H-hello, My mom made you guys this casserole. Right on, the lady said, stumbling back, almost falling.
And suddenly Tully was coming through the doorway, sweeping through, actually, moving with a grace and confidence that was more movie star than teenager.
In a bright blue minidress and white go-go boots, she looked old enough to be driving a car. When Tully looked at her, Kate thought she saw a flash of something that looked like embarrassment in those dark eyes.
Was that your mom? Kate asked, uncertain of what to say.Are you sure, honey? Come on, Tallulah. She shrugged. Kate, doomed to be forever uncool, with a loving family who mortifies her at every turn. In front of her, on the coffee table, was an empty scrapbook.
It was such an unexpected sound that Tully paused in her playing and looked up.