Oona Out of Order: A Novel

“You’re not sick. If you want to get a checkup, get some tests done, we can do that, but doctors won’t find anything.” “I still don’t believe it.” “The world doesn’t care what you believe.” He raised a finger to placate her. “Sorry if that sounds harsh. I care, of course, and your mom cares, but the world is gonna carry on whether you spend the yea

She pushed her way through the masses like a dull needle piercing stiff fabric. A new noise filled the space: electronic beeps and a clanging of metal on metal joined by a bass and drums. As she wove an escape path, the frenzy surrounding her grew. Dancing limbs were new obstacles to maneuver. “Excuse you!” someone shouted when she accidentally elb

“And I’m sure you would’ve made a damn fine trapeze artist or lion tamer.” That was something about Kenzie she cherished. He could always brighten a situation without disrespecting its emotional weight.

It would’ve been a small solace to dream of Dale, her friends, that mirrored basement, to return to 1982 for even a little while—before she knew how the story ended for all of them—but her sleep was a deep inky void. Oona

Oona took slow, reverential steps inside the restaurant, through a wood-paneled foyer, into a mirrored hallway. Her darting eyes took in her multiple selves. What if each reflection was actually a separate version of her, trapped in time? All twenty-seven years old externally, all with cherry hair and a green dress, but while Oona on this side of t

An immersion of sound, white noise that could’ve been breaking waves pounding rocks instead of the roar of cheering. People surrounded Oona, pressed against her in a darkness punctuated with purple and white strobe lights. A haze of smoke. A blizzard of confetti. The crowd bled into a blur of wild eyes, dark lips, bright teeth. It enveloped her fro

As if you couldn’t be serious about something and still enjoy it. As if being young meant being foolish.

“And cluttered. There’s so much white noise and distraction. The girl next to me didn’t even watch the show—she spent the whole time texting. I get why people are so obsessed with their phones…” Turning hers over in her hands, she still couldn’t wrap her head around all its capabilities. It seemed inconceivable something so small offered endless in

She did love Purple Rain, as well as Back to the Future, and all the eighties John Hughes movies Kenzie chose (“Next week, we’ll start on the nineties.