Blume Book | Forever Judy

And then, on page forty-two, next to the line “I want to grow up and be me and not have to pretend,” a scribble: Me too, S.K.

On page seventy-eight, next to the part where Margaret’s grandmother says, “You’ll find your own way to believe,” a reply: I hope so. 1982.

S. Kline. Sarah Kline.

That night, she opened it carefully, like a fossil. She wasn’t a kid anymore. She was thirty-seven, a manager of a small marketing firm, divorced, and currently ignoring a message from her ex-husband about “finalizing the cable bill.” She expected a quick, nostalgic dip. What she got was a time machine.

“Gave this to my daughter Clara today. She’s eleven. She doesn’t know I read it first. Or that her grandmother did. Forever, Judy. — S.K.” forever judy blume book

The next morning, Clara bought a new journal. She opened Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret to the first blank page. Below her mother’s signature, she wrote in her neatest hand:

“That’s a dollar twenty-five,” said a tired-looking woman in a folding chair. “Or just take it. My mom probably paid for it forty years ago.” And then, on page forty-two, next to the

And somewhere, in the landfill where the old house now lay, the words didn't matter. The story had already escaped.