C.L. Walters's Blog, page 17

Awesome Writer Spotlight: Mary E. Pearson (again)

Vow of Thieves, the new low fantasy book by Mary E. Pearson, was the one book I’ve been looking forward to reading this year. I do this weird thing when I anticipate a book: I let it sit on the shelf when it arrives. That’s weird right? Here’s my theory: I want to savor it, so I draw out the anticipation. Okay. Yeah. Whatever. A twist in this strange behavior was that when Vow of Thieves released, August 6, it was the day before I left for Prague, so I forced myself to leave it on the shelf until I returned. I couldn’t wait to crack it open and did as soon as I got home. Then I forced myself to read it slowly, because I wanted to enjoy it like a fine dining meal.

I wasn’t disappointed. The joy and magic I found in the first installment of this duology, Dance of Thieves (review here), still existed in Vow of Thieves. Not only that, I found the quality of the storytelling built along with the narrative (which can’t always be said for a series). What I loved about the first book (as well as The Remnant Chronicles) is Pearson’s incredible voice, the flow of her words, the excellent dialogue, the imagery she’s able to articulate to engage all of my senses, the way I’m able to connect to the fantasy with ease, and then to hit me in the heart so I’m feeling the feels right along with the characters. 

And about those characters, particularly Kazi and Jace, they are sensational. Besides being developed so thoroughly to make them three dimensional on the page, Pearson is able to make them seem like people I’ve been invested in for years. One of the struggles as a writer is maintaining tension, especially in a series or a book with romantic elements. When the hero and heroine finally find one another, that is usually the climax to the denouement of a story. Pearson, however twisted it. She got our hero and heroine together and then found a way to bring the tension up 100 notches but not in a way you would expect, which made the narrative that much richer. 

I loved this conclusion to the Dance of Thieves Duology. I’ve been very open about being a fan of Pearson’s work. This book reinforced my admiration for her as a writer, and my love of her work as a reader.

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The Bones of Who We Are: Gratitude

It has been a week since The Bones of Who We Are released. A gorgeous week filled with support for Gabe and his story. I am so very grateful. I remember when I got to that point I was ready to share the story, how terrifying it was because I knew I’d taken a risk with his story, but with the wonderful and supportive feedback, I am so ecstatic.

John Green said in a Crash Course about Literature that when an author lets go of the story and gives it over to the audience, it ceases being the author’s story and becomes the readers’. I love this. So, I’d like to share some of the impressions Gabe’s story in THE BONES OF WHO WE ARE has provided to readers.

“... the words were magic, each line so delicately put like a song you wanted to continue singing... the author sends you spiraling inside [Gabe’s] brain and his story ... and each step of the way, you become [his] cheerleader...”

— Sophie Fahy, author

“...it is rare to find a novel, a character that resembles oneself - at least for me - it was as if I was looking into a mirror... CL Walters talent for capturing, conjuring the essence of her characters is remarkable... [She] is a talent that you do not want to miss.”

— W. Scott Brown, author

“I became a fast fan of CL Walters after reading Swimming Sideways and The Ugly Truth. The Bones of Who We Are is a brilliant conclusion to the Cantos Chronicles YA Book Series.””

— Janine Caroline, author

“Have to warn you, have tissues next to you while you read. You’ll need them.”

— Mike Walters, author

“The aspect that makes these books so good is that the themes, conflicts, and internal battles are deeply relatable...”

— Sammi, a reader

“Walters tackles heavy, important issues like Mental health and Racism with grace and tact - with a responsibility to the story without losing her voice. Beautifully paced, she drew me in but kept me guessing as the story moved to a breathless conclusion... This is a story everyone needs to read.”

— Bethany, reader

Thank you so much to all of the readers who have read Gabe’s story. I am so deeply humbled and grateful for your willingness to take a chance on Swimming Sideways, The Ugly Truth and now, The Bones of Who We Are. Please continue to share your experience with me, with others. I believe in these stories, and it is so wonderful that you do too.

Available here

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The Bones of Who We Are: It's time.

It’s here! Tomorrow - Tuesday - October 1, 2019, The Bones of Who We Are is out. It’s been an arduous (thought fulfilling) adventure, and I couldn’t be more excited and proud of this story. I can’t wait to hear what you think of Gabe’s journey, so be sure to post a review to Amazon, share it on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. I’m looking forward to it.

“[This story is] emotional and thought provoking. We all need a hand in finding the beauty within.”

— Advance Reader

Buy here.

“Martha and Dale . . .they smile laughing and dancing to music only they can hear. I’m at the dining table watching them and for a split second, I allow myself to think about a future I’ve never considered before...”

— Gabe, The Bones of Who We Are

The Bones of Who We Are: A Letter From Gabe

Dear Reader,

There’s a saying - I think it’s by one of those ancient philosophers, but I don’t remember which one - that says something like “the whole is greater than the sum of its parts.” I think the old white guy was talking about cake or something, not people, because when I look in the mirror, I can’t stop seeing all of the parts. I think that’s something you should know about me.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this letter to you. I don’t know you. I’m not one to share info even with the people I care about. Doc Miller suggests I open up. Trust, he says. It isn’t easy. Truth is, it’s impossible. Hasn’t been a lot of reasons in my life to extend trust. I suppose that’s why I’ve decided to walk into the woods drunk with a gun.

I can hear your question: Why?

Because there’s no other way to save the people I love from the monster inside me. 

When I was ten, I was brought to Cantos by a social worker - Maura Dunning. She made a mistake but that mistake was probably the best one that ever happened to me in a series of mistakes that has defined my life up to now. I’m a mistake. I’ve spent the last seven years trying to forget the awful event that precipitated my arrival here. The truth, though, is that you can’t run from who you are. You can’t forget those parts of you. No matter how much you try to forget the pieces, those snapshots of experience that contribute to the whole of you, they get abscessed. 

Don’t get me wrong - there’s a lot of good stuff. There’s Martha and Dale, Abby, Doc Miller.  It’s hard to see the good clearly though, because the bad is so ugly. What’s that saying? I think Doc Miller told me one time: It’s hard to see the forest through the trees. My whole life has gotten lost among the trees; I’m smart enough to know I’m in a forest, but don’t know how to find my way out anymore. I’m stuck in a loop. And now the infection is finding its way out. The monster.

So, that’s why I’m headed into the forest to the fort Seth and I built with what’s left of a bottle of whiskey and a gun in my pocket. 

Can I ask you a favor? I left a letter for Dale and Martha, and one for Abby. Tell them to look in Cardboard Castle. And please tell them all, I love them. And that I’m sorry.

Gabe

The Bones of Who We Are, the final chapter in the Cantos Chronicles Trilogy, goes on Sale October 1, 2019

The Bones of Who We Are Releases October 1, 2019

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The Bones of Who We Are: A Difficult Story

My father - my rock - passed away in October 2017. I miss him everyday. I didn’t think I would ever find the words to write again. When I tried, all that made it to the page were visceral and painful images of where I was stuck: my cave. About six months later, I was sitting at a traffic light and heard Abby say “I need you to write my story.” The pilot light was relit, and I found my way through a new draft of SWIMMING SIDEWAYS. 

The summer of 2018, with SWIMMING SIDEWAYS and THE UGLY TRUTH drafted, I went home to Oregon for a month to help my mom and sister go through my father’s things. Most of the month was spent broken-hearted, trudging through necessary spaces. I cleaned the garage breathing in my father’s work space and going through each of his tools. This was something my mother wasn’t going to be able to do. My dad and his workshop were symbiotic; he could fix anything, and his workshop reflected this. So, immersion in his workshop, going through each of his toolboxes and trinkets, the jars of things he saved because they’d come in handy one day, cracked me open. Somehow, in the breaking of my heart and the diligent reorganization of his things, I was able to assemble the broken parts of myself back together. It was during this four weeks in Oregon that I began drafting Gabe’s story, and as I stitched myself back together, Gabe’s began to unravel.

I’ve warned readers that Gabe’s story isn’t an easy story to experience, and that is because THE BONES OF WHO WE ARE deals with heavy topics: bullying, depression, identity, loss, grief. Maybe in a way, the loss of my father is reflected in the pain of Gabe. My pain became his, though Gabe’s story was always this, I just couldn’t write it before. The pivotal scene in the book - the reason Gabe is who he is - was written back in 2009, eight years before I lost my father; nine years before I went through his workshop and faced my own undoing. 

Perhaps, I was never going to be equipped to tell Gabe’s story without understanding the complete loss of someone so essential to my own identity. Perhaps, sitting inside my father’s workshop by myself allowed me to grasp loss, life, and grief in a way I never would have without that struggle. As writers our life experiences impact the depth of our knowledge. Virginia Woolf wrote, “Every secret of a writer’s soul, every experience of his life, every quality of his mind is written large in his works.” So, I suppose by realizing how painful it was to look at my father’s empty steel-toed work boots and be slammed with the awareness of how much I missed him, it forced me to jump into the deep end of loss. When the only thing I could do was climb into bed and bury myself in romance novels because those stories were as much as I could handle to not sink and drown, I found a way to tread water. Perhaps, this trial was the only way I was ever going to be able to empathize with Gabe’s experience. 

THE BONES OF WHO WE ARE isn’t an easy story, but then life, love, loss, grief never are. That is the truth of what it means to be human. We hurt, but there is power in the warmth of hope. That - the hope - is what my father would have loved about Gabe’s story.

Release date: October 1, 2019; Kindle Pre-orders available at Amazon.

NEXT WEEK: A Letter from Gabe to readers

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The Bones of Who We Are: Journey to Gabe

The Bones of Who We Are releases October 2, 2019 (pre-orders for kindle are live).

When Gabe became a character in my mind, he started as a fallen angel. There was something magical and beautiful about him in those first drafts of the original paranormal story. He was the blameless sacrifice - the Christ figure - idealized in all his beauty and glory. Then in 2009, I was teaching a class on creativity and in our daily pages, I wrote a heartbreaking scene that I couldn’t shake. I knew without a shadow of a doubt that the character was Gabe as a child, and it shattered the paranormal drafts of the work-in-progress at the time. Nothing already drafted could stand if I used the scene. What the heck was I supposed to do with that, I wondered. 

So the scene sat in my head as an unresolved issue with Gabe’s character. I put the manuscript - two years and nine drafts completed - away (partially because of this unresolved issue, but mostly because a wave of fallen angel stories broke in 2009 and 2010).

In 2015, Seth - the loudest of the three characters - who’d been dragged into hell at the end of the first paranormal story, began nagging me about having left him there. I pulled the story out again. I was teaching Homer’s Odyssey and the Hero’s Journey to my freshman at the time, and decided to plot Seth’s story using Chris Volgler’s work, and suddenly something clicked. The story was there, but I believed it to be a stand alone novel assuming Abby and Gabe were just secondary characters. So, I finished THE UGLY TRUTH in 2016; I was never happy with its ending. My family and friends enjoyed it (or pretended to), but I couldn’t get the nagging feeling out of my head and heart that the ending was all wrong. 

So, it sat for another two years.

Then in March of 2018, I was sitting at a traffic light, waiting, and I heard Abby say in my head, “I need you to finish my story.” In that moment, it dawned on me that all three of them needed their own story. Abby. Seth. Gabe. With Seth’s already done, I went back to the original paranormal manuscript to see if there was anything salvageable for Abby and Gabe. With a ton of cutting, rewriting, and creating new content, Abby’s story, SWIMMING SIDEWAYS, came together, but like Seth’s narrative, I struggled with the ending. I couldn’t figure out how it was supposed to connect until it dawned on me: Abby’s story was first and both she and Seth’s stories were necessary in order to tell Gabe’s. Like finding the last pieces of a puzzle being put into place, I understood the whole story in three parts. The entire series had been moving toward the culmination of Gabe’s narrative all along. 

That quiet, painful scene I wrote back in 2009, suddenly made sense, and served as the cornerstone around which Gabe’s entire story is built. 

The aesthetic I made for Gabe’s story.

Next week: the difficulty of writing Gabe’s story .

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The Bones of Who We Are: Musical Playlist

Music moves me creatively and so it’s a very important part of my process. One of the tools I use when I’m writing is the development and refinement of a playlist (I use Spotify and publish the playlists there). The songs range from popular music with lyrics to moody rifts of instrumental. Over the life of the story, it might change, but ultimately, as the story draws to a close, the playlist becomes an embodiment of the characters and the narrative.

The Bones of Who We Are playlist:

Another Place by Duumu (Gabe)

When the End Comes by Andrew Belle (Gabe)

Floating by Yoe Mase (Gabe)

Throw Me Away by Yoe Mase (Gabe)

Lung by Vancouver Sleep Clinic (Gabe)

Someone to Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic (Gabe)

Isabelle by Vancouver Sleep Clinic (Gabe and Abby)

Closure by Vancouver Sleep Clinic (Gabe and Abby)

Revival - Instrumental by Vancouver Sleep Clinic (Gabe)

Fear of the Water by SYML (Gabe)

715 - Creeks by Bon Iver (Gabe and Abby)

Cruel World by Active Child (Gabe, Dale and Martha)

Satellite Call by Sara Bareilles (Gabe)

Blinded by Emmit Fenn (Gabe and Abby)

Chapel by JT Roach (Gabe and Abby)

Because this Must Be by Nils Frahm (Gabe)

Shelter by Luca Fogale (Gabe and Abby)

Roots by Jakob Ahlbom (Gabe, Dale and Martha)

Rose by Honest Man (Gabe and Abby)

SAYONARA by Aries (Gabe and Seth)

Boys Can Cry Too (For my brother) by The Careful Ones (Gabe and Seth)

Still Life - Instrumental version by Snorri Hallgrimsson (Gabe)

Waves - Instrumental version by Hugar (Gabe, Dale and Martha)

Coma/Smoke by Hailaker (Gabe and Seth)

Punching In a Dream by The Naked and the Famous (Gabe)

The Bones of Who We Are will be available October 1, 2019

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The Bones of Who We Are: Free Chapter

Gabe is self-aware due to all of the therapy, but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t act like the teenager he is.

In SWIMMING SIDEWAYS, THE UGLY TRUTH and THE BONES OF WHO WE ARE (we should probably come up with a trilogy name. Got any ideas? Post in the comments!), the three stories are told from three different protagonist but swirl around similar events. Each book - while different - offers several common scenes that are pivotal in that protagonist’s journey. For example, the fight between Seth and Gabe shows up in all three, but each story explores the scene from a different viewpoint.

Gabe recognizes his anger makes him smaller, but he can’t help it. He wants justice for what Seth has done (which is explored fulling in Gabe’s story THE BONES OF WHO WE ARE). This scene is the fight between Gabe and Seth which doesn’t meet Gabe’s expectations of how he thought getting even would feel.

NOTE: There is strong language.

In the Stars

My blood boils as I watch Abby make her way across the art room to talk to Seth. It isn’t my anger at her. A part of me understands her kindness toward him; I understand the loss of him in my own life and know compassion for him lurks in my dark corners. I’m just not sympathetic enough in the moment with all of the jealousy and insecurity coursing through me to acknowledge it.

I kissed her. I’ve been kissing her. My blood moves in a different way thinking about her, filled with pulses of light and want. I’d put my feelings out there. It might make me an idiot, but there is no regret. If I hadn’t, I think I might have imploded with need.

Clear thinking might help me realize when she reached out to me, she changed my life, but when it comes to Seth, I’m not clear. There’s too much context weaved around the weeds which have enveloped who we’ve become.  I could be a better person and help her, especially after what happened on her birthday, but I just can’t. There’s nothing but her and my anger at Seth. I think it’s progress I’m still here, waiting.

I can’t see Abby’s face, but I can see Seth’s. He looks at me and the hate in his gaze is tangible. My blood surges like a tide, filling my eyes with red. When he looks at Abby with that same look as though she’s the dirtiest thing he’s ever seen along with sneer of his mouth when he says whatever he says, my vision begins to receded toward blind rage.

Mr. Mike interrupts their conversation, and Abby turns away coming back across the room toward me. When she looks up, her eyes are filled with unshed tears, and the fire in my belly is fed more fuel.

After school, we leave the building, and I attempt to comfort her. “I’m sorry,” I say and put my arm around her shoulders. I draw her closer and kiss the top of her head. “He’s a dick.” He’s a lot more than that in my mind, but I don’t give it a voice.

“I just feel…” she starts but doesn’t finish her thought. Leaves it dangling there.

We cross the parking lot, walking through the misty air toward the car. It’s trying to rain.

“Daniels!”

I don’t have to turn around to know who’s yelled my name. When I do, I see Seth is stalking through the parking lot after us. He weaves his way between cars, his steps sure and focused but his countenance wild and crazed.

When he’s close enough, I patronize him by saying, “Peters. Is there something I can help you with?” My voice conceals the fire in my belly which is now raging. Adrenaline has already started moving through me, prepping my tense muscles. I know what’s coming. It was always written in the stars.

Seth steps up to me, close and confrontational.

I hold my ground but turn so Abby is behind me.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’ve got a problem with you,” followed by tirade of profanity and finger pokes to my chest for emphasis.

Rage blinds me.

“Please,” I hear Abby say but it’s far away at the end of a tunnel in the periphery of my logical brain. I’m my animal brain now.

“Such language, Peters. You ever heard what they say about people who use profanity?”

“What?”

“That they haven’t got much to work with up here.” I tap my head. I step away from him and remove my jacket.

Abby is suddenly between us. “Please stop. Gabe. Seth. Please.”

I take her by the arms and move her to the side where a crowd has collected. It’s starting to rain. “No.” I hand her my jacket, and then remove my hoodie giving that to her too. I see her, but I don’t really. I’m cognizant of only one purpose: Years of animal anger ready to be unleashed. I turn away from her to Seth, and step into the circle which is forming around us. “You don’t want to fight me, Peters,” I tell him, but it isn’t a warning; it’s a promise.

Seth, pacing around the circle like a caged animal himself, wipes the collecting moisture from his hair and face. “It’s all I’ve thought about since freshman year.”

“So, I have occupied your thoughts?” I taunt.

The crowd now a perfect circle around us has started the chant: “Freak. Freak. Freak.”

While I hear it, it doesn’t register. I’m focused on the challenge in front of me, the culmination of a wish, a dream, and I will throw that punch. Seth will win the challenge he started, and I will win by smashing his fucking face. Poetic justice.

Seth lunges at me. He’s too consumed with emotion, and I’m able to sidestep the charge. He slams into a car behind me, crunching against the metal and setting off the car alarm.  He slips down the side of the wet car.

“This isn’t a fair fight, Peters,” I continue to taunt him as he stands up. He’s angry, just as I am. We are both consumed with it. Water drips through my hair onto my face and into my eyes. 

The car alarm continues to bleat its wounded sound.

Seth stands up straight, rolls his shoulders and says, “I’m willing to find out.”

I lift my hands. “Let’s go.”

The crowd yells with a frenzied excitement while the car alarm screeches in agreement.

Seth yells and rushes me, his arms wrapping around my waist. The momentum carries us to the asphalt. We slide across the pavement, and I feel my skin tear. Seth gains the upper hand crouches over me, my back on the road. I lift my hands protecting my head while Seth unleashes punch after punch at my ribs, but I’m able to bend my body, tightening his target and deflecting him until I see an opportunity. Seth drops his defensive hand, and I throw a hook. It connects with the side of his face. His head snaps to the left, and his body follows it to the blacktop.

 His loss is my gain and I scramble up to slam him with a knee against his exposed ribs. I hear a crack. Seth grunts. I unload a torrent of rage against him. Years of pent up anger and bitterness unleashed. Seth curls in on himself, rolling to keep me from hitting the rib I know is broken. Then, taking a risk, Seth opens up, and wraps me with his arms, squeezing me like a python, and yells with what I assume is pain because of his broken rib.

Someone from the crowd screams: “Teacher!” and the crowd disperses.

Strong hands grab me. I’m peeled away from Seth and hauled up to my feet.

We stare at each other consumed with hate.

Seth, holding his ribs, spits blood and says, “This isn’t over.”

“Yes, it is,” a security guard holding Seth by the back of the neck says.

Someone has me in the same position. We are ushered into the school building and dropped into chairs at opposite sides of the office. One security guard stands between us while the other disappears into the offices.

“What’s your fucking problem with me, Peters?” I ask. I spit blood from my mouth into a nearby container. The security guard snaps at me for spitting and tells me to get a napkin. I do but my focus is on Seth across the room, the guard between us. “What did I ever fucking do to you, Seth?”

“You know,” he says like a petulant child, but I see doubt war with the arrogance of his features.

My anger is waning, the adrenalin dissipating like steam from a boiling pot. “You’re such a shit,” I say and spit again, but this time into a tissue. I glance at the guard and salute him with the napkin. Then to Seth, “A selfish shit who doesn’t think. You just take your damn anger out on everyone else.”

“Shut up,” he says.

“Sound like anyone else you know, dumb shit? You said you never wanted to be like him but look at you now.”

“Shut up!” Seth jumps from his seat and tries to rush through the guard between us.

The mountain of a man manhandles Seth into a different room. I hear one of the guards say, “Sit down.” The mountain returns to sit with me and wait.

The silence of the room is a burden. I shiver, cold not because I’m soaked through my t-shirt, but from the adrenaline which is dripping into a puddle at my feet. The shock of what has happened begins to ice over with passing time. I replay it over and over in my mind looking for justification, looking for the sweet taste of vengeance. It isn’t there. Instead I feel shadows moving, dark thoughts of recrimination and inadequacy. I don’t feel good.

For the first time I remember Abby: Please stop. Please.

I drop my head into my hands, miserable. I shiver.

The Vice Principal sweeps in and takes our statements. “Gabe? You’ve never fought. Ever. What happened?” Mrs. Sandford asks. I wish it was Mrs. A.

I don’t answer her.

“Gabe?”

I refuse to say anything. In the aftermath, I feel the shadows of what has transpired pull at my edges, thinning me out toward nothingness. Tears spring to my eyes, and my physical ache is less acute than the emotional one. When Dale finally appears, I can’t hold the tears back any longer. Ashamed for having failed him. Ashamed for having been drawn into the fight with Seth. Ashamed of who I am.

Dale - the lighthouse he is - wraps me up in his arms. “Gabe? What’s happened?”

Seth’s father walks into the office like a whirlwind. “Where is he?” The ice of his voice sends a shiver down my spine.

“What happened?” Dale asks me again.

“I don’t know. I got mad,” I say.

“About what?” he asks. “I’ve never seen you get mad, Gabe. Not enough to fight.”

I look up and see Seth’s dad watching us. His eyes are bloodshot, and he’s puffed up. I can smell he’s been drinking.  A security guard ushers Seth into the room; he’s been crying too.

Dale looks away from me for a moment. “Well, hello, Seth. This is a surprise.” He looks at me, eyebrows raised.

Mrs. Sandford announces that we’re free to go home and get medical attention, but that there will be a meeting to determine behavioral consequences.

When she’s done, Dale turns to me and says. “I don’t understand, Gabe. Does this have anything to do with Abby? This just isn’t like you.”

“Excuse me?”  Seth’s father interrupts. “Did I just hear you say Abby was a part of this?” His voice is so sharp and hard, I feel cut open.

Seth hangs his head and shrinks.

“Afternoon, Mr. Peters,” Dale’s voice is polite, but his eyes are wary. “Let’s go.” He leads me from the room. I look back at Seth who glances up at me. His look is resigned and it’s terrifying. Abby’s fears for Seth’s safety all those weeks ago are suddenly my fears too.

Available on Amazon and by request at libraries and retailers October 1, 2019

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The Bones of Who We Are: The Monster

5 Reasons Gabe believes he’s a monster:

It goes back to his childhood (which is a major spoiler that I can’t explore here. You’ll have to read the book)

Gabe wants to retaliate with all of the bullying, but he’s afraid of how far he could go with his anger. This also comes back to Seth (The Ugly Truth) and what Gabe’s believes about justice.

During the 8th grade, Gabe beat up someone he considered a friend - Cord - and lost control of his anger. This has been a formative reason in holding what he believes to be the monster back.

Gabe isn’t violent. He’s sensitive and silent, but it also makes him dangerous because he knows where that kind of dormant anger leads.

He hurts everyone he loves (at least that’s what he believes about himself).

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The Bones of Who We Are: Gabe Facts

REMINDER: Gabe’s a poet. This is one of his poems about hope

Five more facts about Gabe

His favorite music anything that makes him feel which means the lyrics have to be meaningful. It makes sense. He’s a poet after all.

Gabe’s favorite food is food. He’ll eat pretty much anything (which if you asked him probably goes back to his childhood and always being hungry).

He’s complicated, but not in the it-gives-me-an-excuse-to-be-a-jerk kind of way. He’s got a past that has shaped his perspective and is trying to navigate while at the same time being stuck in the quicksand of high school.

He’s the strong, silent type, but that doesn’t mean he won’t talk. He’s actually pretty funny, which Abby finds out in Swimming Sideways.

Gabe LOVES sports, especially basketball (which he’s really good at).

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