Introduction

Seven months ago, on a rainy March night, sixteen year- old Willow's parents died in a horrible car accident. Willow was driving. Now her older brother barely speaks to her, her new classmates know her as the killer orphan girl, and Willow is blocking the pain by secretly cutting herself. But when one boy ?one sensitive, soulful boy?discovers Willow's secret, it sparks an intense relationship that turns the 'safe? world Willow has created for herself upside down.

Told in an extraordinary fresh voice, Willow is an unforgettable novel about one girl's struggle to cope with tragedy, and one boy's refusal to give up on her.

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Excerpt

CHAPTER ONE.

Maybe it's just a scratch.

Willow Randall stares at the girl seated opposite her. Some might notice the girl because she was pretty. Others because of her flaming red hair. If the guys in the class were looking they would see that the outline of her bra was clearly visible beneath her shirt. But Willow eyes are riveted by something else: an angry red welt, about three inches long that runs from the girl's elbow to her wrist. If Willow squints hard enough, she can just about make out a few flecks of dried blood.

How did she get it? She doesn't look the type.

Maybe she has a cat. A whole bunch of kittens.

Yeah, that's it. Playing with her kitty. That's probably how it happened.

Willow slumps down in her seat. But her scrutiny hasn't gone unnoticed and the girl turns to one of her friends and starts whispering.

Sshshhsh……

What are they saying?

Willow looks at the other girls uncertainly. She has a bad feeling that they're talking about her and she's pretty sure that she knows what they're saying, too.

She's the one without parents.

No. She's the one who killed her parents.

Their whispers remind her of the rustling of dried leaves. Willow has always hated the sound. She fights the urge to clap her hands over her ears, reluctant to call any more attention to herself. But she can't stop the river of noise that flows out of their mouths. Shhhhsshhhs….

The sound engulfs her. Threatens to overwhelm her.

Only one thing can make it go away.

Willow stands up abruptly, but her shoelace gets tangled with the chair leg and she pitches forward. Her books fall to the floor with a crash. She grabs the desk with both hands, barely managing to stay upright.

Dead silence. Everyone is staring at her.

She can feel her face flaming and glares at the two girls who were whispering.

Right! Like it's their fault!

“Willow?” Ms. Benson sounds alarmed. She's clearly concerned, and not just pretending. She's a good teacher.

She's nice to the fat kids, the pimply kids, so why not the orphan kids? Why not the killer kids?

“I just....” Willow straightens up slowly. “Just --- the bathroom.” Her blush deepens painfully. She's ashamed of her clumsiness. Ashamed at the way she looked at those girls .... And couldn't she have come up with a different excuse?

Ms. Benson nods, but she looks doubtful, as if she might suspect.

Willow could care less at this point. All she's thinking about is making a quick getaway and leaving those smirking faces behind. She picks up her books, grabs her bag and as soon as she's out the door starts running down the hall. Wait. No running in the halls. She slows down to a walk. That's the last thing she needs, to get busted for something as stupid as running in the halls.

The girl's bathroom smells like smoke. There's no one around. Good. The door to one of the stalls swings free. Willow kicks it shut behind her and lowers the toilet seat before sitting down.

She rummages through her bag. Getting frantic because she can't find what she so desperately needs. Did she forget to get more supplies? Finally, just when she's given up hope, when she's about to start howling like a dog, her hand closes on smooth metal. Her fingers test the sharpness of the edge. Perfect. It's a fresh blade.

The girls voices rustle in her head. Their clamoring pushes out all rational thought. She rolls up her sleeve.

The bite of the blade kills the noise. It wipes out the memory of those staring faces. Willow looks at her arm, at the life springing from her. Tiny pinpricks of red that blossom into giant peonies.

Peonies like the ones my mother used to plant.

Willow shuts her eyes, drinking in the quiet. Her breath deepens with each dip of the razor. Silence reigns, not like when she tripped, but perfect and pure.

You couldn't really say that something that hurts so badly feels good exactly. It's more that it just feels right. And, something that feels so right just couldn't be bad. It has to be good.

It is good. Better than good.

Better than anything with any guy ever.

Better than mother's milk. view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

1) The two main characters in WILLOW, Willow and Guy, are never described physically, how did that affect your image of them? Why do you think the author left their physical characteristics up to the reader's imagination?

2)Do you think that books, the love of books, and the way they are discussed and dealt with in this book, play a part in Willow's healing process? How do books bring her and Guy together? How do books come into play in the relationship that she has with her brother?

3) Although Willow obviously engages in self destructive behavior, in many ways she is self protective. The way in which she loses her virginity is both emotionally and sexually responsible. Do you agree with this? What other ways is she protective of herself, and others?

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