Read an excerpt from The Summer List by Amy Mason Doan
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In the tradition of Judy Blume’s Summer Sisters, The Summer List is a tender yet tantalizing novel about two friends, the summer night they fell apart, and the scavenger hunt that reunites them decades later—until the clues expose a breathtaking secret that just might shatter them once and for all.
Laura and Casey were once inseparable: as they floated on their backs in the sunlit lake, as they dreamed about the future under starry skies, and as they teamed up for the wild scavenger hunts in their small California lakeside town. Until one summer night, when a shocking betrayal sent Laura running through the pines, down the dock, and into a new life, leaving Casey and a first love in her wake.
But the past is impossible to escape, and now, after seventeen years away, Laura is pulled home and into a reunion with Casey she can’t resist—one last scavenger hunt. With a twist: this time, the list of clues leads to the settings of their most cherished summer memories. From glistening Jade Cove to the vintage skating rink, each step they take becomes a bittersweet reminder of the friendship they once shared. But just as the game brings Laura and Casey back together, the clues unravel a stunning secret that threatens to tear them apart…
Mesmerizing and unforgettable, Amy Mason Doan’s The Summer List is about losing and recapturing the person who understands you best—and the unbreakable bonds of girlhood.
Excerpt
The invitation came on a Saturday.
I was taking Jett for a walk, and she was frantic with anticipation, nails skittering on the lobby’s tile floor, black fur spiking up so she looked more like a little dragon than a lab.
“If you calm down I can do this faster, lady,” I said as I high-stepped to free myself from the leash she’d wrapped around my ankles. “Off.”
She retreated, settling under the bank of mailboxes. But right when I got my letters out, she sprang up and butted my wrist with her head. Perfect aim, perfect timing.
“Leave it, Joan Jett. Devious girl.” I tried to maintain the stern voice we learned in Practical Skills Training but couldn’t help laughing as I collected my mail from the floor. A typical assortment. White, business-sized bills. A Sushi Express menu. A slender donation form for Goodwill.
Then—not typical—a hot-pink envelope.
It had fallen facedown, revealing a sticker centered over the triangular flap: a mermaid. In pearls and sunglasses. Holding a sign saying You’re Invited!
I assumed it was for the tween girl who lived in #1. I was #7, so there were sometimes mix-ups. I was halfway down the hall to her family’s unit when I flipped the envelope over, preparing to slide it under their door.
It was for me.
Ms. Laura Christie, 7 Pacific View, San Francisco, CA 94115
No return address.
But I knew who it was from.
I knew because of the mermaid sticker, which now made sense, and from the surge of something close to happiness in my chest.
I ripped the envelope open and pulled out a photo of two grinning 1950s girls in pajamas. Over their rollered heads, in black ballpoint, she had printed Coeur-de-Lune. My hometown.
Then dates—Thurs. June 23–Sun. June 26. Less than three weeks away.
Below that it said:
Scavenger hunt!
Crank calls!
Manicures!
Trio of cookie dough!
But seriously, please come. We’re supposed to be older and wiser. (35—how did it happen?) I promise it will be ok.
No R.S.V.P. necessary.
Casey
Casey Katherine Shepherd. I hadn’t seen her since we were eighteen.
When I ran into people from Coeur-de-Lune they inevitably asked me about Casey, and I always said, “we drifted.” They would nod, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. People drifted.
In my case it’d be more accurate to say I’d swum away. As fast as I could, trying my hardest not to look back.
I slid the card into its torn pink envelope and turned it over again, my thumb smoothing the top edge of the sticker, where it had curled up slightly.
I promise it will be ok, she’d written.
(35—how did it happen?)
I held the invitation over the recycling basket, pausing a second before letting it flutter into the mess of junk mail. I waited for the soft rustle it made on landing before I let Jett tug me to the door.
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About the Author
AMY MASON DOAN earned a BA in English from UC Berkeley and an MA in journalism from Stanford University, and has written for The Oregonian, San Francisco Chronicle, and Forbes, among other publications. She grew up in Danville, California, and now lives in Portland, Oregon, with her husband and daughter. The Summer List is her first novel.
