by E.C. Moore
Published by: Booktrope Publishing
Publication date: October 20th 2015
Genres: Romance, Young Adult
E.C. Moore’s young adult novel, Every Big and Little Wish, opens in late spring 1970. Sixteen-year-old Jacy Wilbert’s Mom got promoted, so her parents sold their Victorian home in California and moved to a townhouse in Oregon.
Torn away from the only home she’s ever known, forced to leave her beloved German shepherd behind, Jacy feels misplaced. Exacerbating an already terrible situation, her dad runs off with the bombshell real estate agent who sold them their townhouse. And, just when it seems things can’t get any worse, her mom loses the stupid job they left California for in the first place and begins to drown her sorrows with pink wine, night after night. Jacy’s caught in the middle, struggling to maintain a relationship with her AWOL dad while tolerating his annoying, much-younger girlfriend.
Missing old friends back in California, and feeling like an outsider, Jacy needs to build a new social life in a new school. Not the sort of girl to wait around for what she wants to come her way, she sets her sights on Neil Wilder, the best-looking boy around.
Everything changes when Jacy Wilbert knocks on the wrong door.
Most guys seemed preoccupied or distant, but Neil wasn’t afraid to share his thoughts. He wasn’t fixated on organized sports like most boys either. He longed for adventure. Someday he wanted to climb Mount Fuji. He thought he might like to sail around the world. We talked all morning, and he kept his hands to himself the whole time. When we got tired of hanging around Lloyd Center, he suggested we head for Mt. Tabor Park. Once we got there, he said, “Let’s take a nap under Harvey’s shadow. I’m beat. It’s impossible to get any sleep in that madhouse. Last night Uncle Bill and Peg got in a big fight. Their screaming and yelling scared Little Manny half to death, so he crawled in with me. That kid kicks so much I ended up on the floor without a blanket or a pillow.”
“Who’s Harvey? And how do we nap under him?” He pointed up the hill. “Follow me—you’ll see.” Turned out, Harvey was a towering bronze statue surrounded by huge Douglas firs. The sun had warmed the grass, so we stretched out. I equated Oregon with green and trees. And practically everywhere I went there were rivers and lakes and streams. So different from home, where most of the year creeks and riverbeds remained dry as a bone until a flash flood raged through. Neil fell asleep right away. I took off my pea coat, folded it to make a pillow, and tucked it under his head. He didn’t stir, even when my lucky fingers got tangled in his blond curls.
What a bummer for that poor old Harvey Scott statue. He must have thought Michelangelo’s David had fallen at his feet. While Mr. Wherehaveyoubeenallmylife visited dreamland I was able to stare to my heart’s content. Neil was a dead ringer for David, the boy warrior. I was an expert. When I was a kid I often studied the photo of the famous stone statue in my parents’ Encyclopedia Britannica
When Elizabeth’s not writing feverishly, you will find her out walking or sightseeing. She’s crazy about coffee, books, cooking, good wine, cairn terriers, miniature ponies, historical houses, tapas, and witty people.
She resides in a fifties bungalow in Southern California, with her creative-director, hubba-hubba husband, a yappy blonde dog, and one feisty Chihuahua.