TELL ME A SECRET HOLLY CUPALA PDF

From the promotional copy:. Then two lines on a pregnancy test confirm her worst fears. In this powerful debut novel, stunning new talent Holly Cupala illuminates the dark struggle of a girl who must let go of her past to find a way into her future. How did you react? How did you celebrate?

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By Holly Cupala. In the five years since her bad-girl sister Xanda's death, Miranda Mathison has wondered about the secret her sister took to the grave, and what really happened the night she died.

Now, just as Miranda is on the cusp of her dreams—a best friend to unlock her sister's world, a ticket to art school, and a boyfriend to fly her away from it all—Miranda has a secret all her own. When two lines on a pregnancy test confirm her worst fears, Miranda is stripped of her former life.

She must make a choice with tremendous consequences and finally face her sister's demons and her own. In this powerful debut novel, stunning new talent Holly Cupala illuminates the dark struggle of a girl who must let go of her past to find a way into her own future.

No one mentions my sister. I am the good sister. Thank God. Alexandra, Andra, Alex. Xanda—who was, and is, and is to come. To think of Xanda is to conjure up a person out of phase with the rest of us. Gym socks and Mary Janes. Lipstick always slightly outside the lines, as if she were just the victim of a mad, messy kiss. Laddered stockings with dresses that were decidedly un-churchy. Sloppy in a way that was somehow repulsive and delectable at the same time.

Repulsive to my parents. Delectable to me. At ten, I was practicing her pout in the mirror. By twelve, I was trying on her clothes in secret, of course , thrilled with the way her shorts hugged my cheeks and made my underpants seem obsolete.

Xanda was seventeen. One day she caught me in her boots and safety-pin dress, the one she had painstakingly assembled like rock-star chain mail.

I was so scared I poked a pin through the end of my pinky. I imagined her taking off one of her stilettos and plunging it into my heart. Instead, she threw back her head and laughed a dazzling, tonsil-baring laugh, then smothered me in a hug.

She had that sour, sharp smell, and I knew she had been with Andre—Andre, of the sultry voice and skin the shade of coffee with milk. Sweet and dangerous. A bit of a con, said Andre. A bit of a letch, said my sister. After she bandaged my finger, Xanda insisted I try on the matching safety-pin leg warmers. They hung like chains around my ankles.

Clump, clump, drag. With a heavy grasp, she steered us both toward the full-length mirror on the back of her bedroom door. The metal of the safety pins shimmered down my straight, twelve-year-old hips. Xanda stood behind me, the glow of the bedroom window lighting up the pale chaos of her hair in a halo. She shimmered, too, but in a different kind of way. Her sheer white dress fluttered around her, a ghost trapped behind my chain-link figure. When she smiled, she looked like an unholy angel.

She studied my face with one eye closed, like an artist sizing up a canvas. You know what? No, I was thinking more like…Rand. Rand is so much cooler than Mandy. Kind of edgy. I tested the name in my mouth. Rand would wear a safety-pin dress. Rand could probably go without underpants now and then.

Rand sounded almost like Xanda. I liked it. I cupped my hands around her ear. You never knew when our mother would turn a corner, shattering the most perfect moment with a well-placed shard of disapproval. Xanda staggered backward, the smile on her face slipping first into a grimace and then into a beaming hiccup. She threw her arms around me and rocked back and forth. Her body heaved with silent giggles until I nearly suffocated in her clutch.

I laughed, too, at my own ridiculousness. She swiped at the tears, smearing her left eye just enough to match her right. A bitter laugh gurgled up. The safety pins closed in on me like a thorny noose. She pushed past me and out the door, where Mom saw her see-through dress and immediately began the usual tirade. I winced, knowing I could never stand up to the words my mother threw so easily at my sister. Then it dawned on me: Xanda was buying me time. After wrestling with the pins, I escaped with only a few scratches through the secret passageway Dad had built between our bedrooms, her words burning in my heart.

Xanda never did tell me her secret, though I thought I could guess. I could see it in her eyes the last time she left. It was that boy, my mother told me the night she died. I was left to wonder, what role did Xanda fill that I could not? What secret did she keep? And what path could I take to find it? Any choice could lead to something irrevocable, as my boyfriend, Kamran, would say. I had to tread carefully. He stood there at some point nearly every day, absorbing the images and making notes in a small notebook.

Essence was my spy and confidante, back when we were still friends. Before Delaney Pratt changed everything. No, I said. He looks kind of Euro, you know?

And a little bit of con leche , I hoped. They met in Drama, where Essence was honing her stage skills while I drifted deeper into preparing for art school—and checked out art-appreciating hotties. Eli was not impressed with our sleuthing. Are you blind? Too cool to come down and mingle with the rest of us, he declared.

I was too shy to say anything to this mysterious Kamran until the day I caught him holding a pencil and sheet of paper up to the glass—copying my work. Hey, I said, my outrage overcoming the tongue that had been tied up for weeks. If Mr. He shifted his weight toward me, turning the full power of those olive eyes onto my face. I opened my mouth to shout something—anything—and he smiled a kind of cocky half-smile, knocking the rules of communication right out of my head.

White teeth…nice lips…eyelashes…I could no longer make sense of any of them. Except that they were talking to me. Well, the lips were talking to me. I wanted to remember it. So I wanted to write about them.

Your art inspired me. Oh…oh, I stuttered. I mean…labyrinths are my passion. I was hooked, enough to keep checking for mystery-man Kamran lurking around my art and hopefully thinking about me as much as I was thinking about him. Everything about last year seemed irrevocable now—the intersection of Kamran and me. Meeting Delaney. Losing Essence. The choices we made, the last time I saw them all. I would not have chosen to spend the summer before my senior year working at Evergreen New Creation Camp teaching art.

Make art, Mom, not teach art.

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Tell Me a Secret by Holly Cupala

By Holly Cupala. In the five years since her bad-girl sister Xanda's death, Miranda Mathison has wondered about the secret her sister took to the grave, and what really happened the night she died. Now, just as Miranda is on the cusp of her dreams—a best friend to unlock her sister's world, a ticket to art school, and a boyfriend to fly her away from it all—Miranda has a secret all her own. When two lines on a pregnancy test confirm her worst fears, Miranda is stripped of her former life. She must make a choice with tremendous consequences and finally face her sister's demons and her own. In this powerful debut novel, stunning new talent Holly Cupala illuminates the dark struggle of a girl who must let go of her past to find a way into her own future.

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Book Review – Tell Me A Secret by Holly Cupala

In this powerful debut novel, stunning new talent Holly Cupala illuminates the dark struggle of a girl who must let go of her past to find a way into her future. Buy on Audible Amazon Preview on iTunes. Have you ever felt like you were living in the shadow of a sibling? Why or how so? Xanda was wild and reckless, while Miranda was more quiet and solitary. Which sister do you resemble?

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