Forever Changes
4/5
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About this ebook
Brianna is a math whiz. She’s almost certain to be admitted to MIT—that is, if she survives to see her nineteenth birthday. Brianna has cystic fibrosis, and after her friend Molly died six months ago, it’s hard for Brianna to let go of the feeling that she’s next. Numbers make sense to Brianna—they give her something to think about besides her own crummy odds. To her great surprise, it is in math class that she discovers the infinity that exists between eighteen and nineteen.
Poignant and true, this story of one extraordinary teenage life is riveting. With Forever Changes, Brendan Halpin has crafted an unparalleled protagonist who will leave an indelible mark on readers.
Brendan Halpin
Brendan Halpin was a high school English teacher for ten years before penning his first novel. He is the author of How Ya Like Me Now and Forever Changes, as well as several novels for adults. He lives in Massachusetts. www.brendanhalpin.com
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Reviews for Forever Changes
26 ratings4 reviews
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Brianna's starting her senior year of high school. She's taking AP calculus and her dad really wants her to apply to MIT. Brianna thinks she could probably get in - math has always made sense to her in a way that the real world often does not. But even though her entire class is abuzz with college talk, Brianna's not sure she wants to apply. Brianna has cystic fibrosis. She's 18 years old. She knows that she probably will not live to see her college graduation. Forever Changes is about a girl coming to terms with not only her own mortality but her own infinity. I loved this book! One of my favorite things is Brianna's great relationship with her dad. I would recommend it to fans of Before I Die by Jenny Downham. (A better review will be posted on my blog.)
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Brianna is just about to start her senior year of high school: all regular classes, plus AP Calc. But despite being a math whiz, she's not really gung-ho about applying to colleges, because she's not sure if her cystic fibrosis will allow her to even live long enough to bother. She knows her time is limited, and so she spends that time with her friends, her family, and yes, with calculus--people and ideas that make her happy. Brianna is more or less a regular teenager who goes to parties, helps her friends through boyfriend troubles and parents' divorces, and just happens to have a terminal illness. Her mortality is never far from her mind, but CF isn't her defining characteristic. She bonds with her calculus teacher (who is himself staring an early death in the face due to heart disease) as they discuss life, living, and the importance of infinitely small numbers--and people.
The writing is a little clunky in places, though: the line "Even the fact that guys were buzzing around Melissa like bees did to that honeysuckle bush near the beach in the summer didn't bother Brianna" was a particular delight to parse. On the whole, though, I liked this better than I'd expected to. It's not maudlin the way Lurlene McDaniel books are; Brianna is very relatable as a character. The novel does require some suspension of disbelief, particularly in that Brianna is not the only student with CF at her high school, but her friend Ashley has it, too. It is a tearjerker, of course, as we head toward the inevitable conclusion, but really this is about Brianna's relationships with the people around her. - Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I'm wondering as to how I've never heard of or stumbled upon this book before! This book was GREAT. The writing was beautiful.As a person who isn't a fan of mathematics, this book certainly amazed me.Those complicated equations where the answer might be zero, but it isn't- an almost zero amount! Those answers can bring so much hope to a person. Briana has cystic fibrosis and chances are she won't live long. When she starts her senior year, she finds herself seeking some kind of hope and she finds it through the lessons from her calculus teacher. I love this quote from the book: "But here, Ms. Pelletier, is the thing. Without infinitesimals, the calculus as we know and love it simply wouldn't exist. It is these nearly-zero, sort-of-zero, sometimes-zero quantities that allow us to understand the world. Something which seems to be nearly nothing turns out to be crucial to everything. So though I, or for you that matter, or any of us, may be, as a collection of atoms, practically indistinguishable from zero, this does not necessarily mean we are insignificant. Indeed, it may be that we are actually crucially important." I would say that this is a must read. It's short but definitely meaningful.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5High school senior Brianna Pelletier seems to have it all: she’s smart and popular. There’s one problem though. One huge problem. She has cystic fibrosis and knows that she only has a limited amount of time left to live. Brianna goes into her senior year with an ever increasing fear of death on her mind and a frustration with the heavy emphasis on getting into college, thinking that it is pointless to apply to college with the knowledge that she might not live long to get even a high school diploma.However, what Brianna finds in school is a somewhat unorthodox math teacher who opens her mind up to ideas she never considered before and teaches her a number of life lessons along the way. His lesson on infinitesimals, numbers so small that they are seemingly meaningless but are in fact the basis for calculus, causes Brianna to start thinking that her life, however short it may end up being, is more significant than she realizes.The author does an excellent job of getting into the world of high school students (complete with modern-day pop culture reference) and of painting a touching portrait of the relationship between a single dad and his only daughter. The author also successfully explores a number of deep themes, such as the meaning of life and what happens after death, without being overly moralizing.The flowing dialogic writing and the relatively short length might suggest that this book is appropriate for tweens. However, the foul language peppered throughout along with the heavy life-and-death theme make it better suited for older teens. While math is a huge factor in this book as Brianna’s brain automatically turns even the most everyday situations into a math problem, it is not necessary to be mathematically inclined to enjoy this book.
Book preview
Forever Changes - Brendan Halpin
so …
As the warm sunlight faded, there was a faint chill in the breeze coming off the harbor. Brianna popped a pill, washed it down with water, and ate a tortilla chip. Dad took a long pull on his Corona. They were the only people sitting on the terrace of Captain Cancun’s Mexican Ristorante on the Tuesday after Labor Day.
So,
Dad said, and with that one word, she could tell he was about to hit some topic she didn’t want to talk about. That so
, delivered with that expectant tone, was always the way he launched them into some kind of awkward discussion she didn’t want to have. So,
he’d say, any cute boys in class this year?
or So. How’s the hangover?
or, tonight, So. When are we going to go college visiting?
Brianna dipped another chip and looked out at the harbor. Just at the line of the horizon, she could see a boat. As she watched, it disappeared over the horizon, off to sea, off, maybe to Spain, where it would end up if it kept going straight from here all the way across the Atlantic Ocean. Except it wouldn’t be straight, because the idea of straight on a curved surface was kind of sketchy. It would actually be a direct line following the curvature of the earth.
I dunno. I mean, I don’t think … Melissa wants us to take the commuter rail in so she can have a tour and an interview at BU. So maybe I’ll just do that.
I looked on the Web site. MIT is having an info session next week. I really think you should go, Bri.
Suddenly, the tortilla chips were very interesting. She picked one up, thought briefly that calculating the area of this chip would be difficult, because, again, it wasn’t a collection of points in a two-dimensional plane, it was a three-dimensional surface with a pronounced curvature. All the better to scoop up the last of the salsa. As she scraped the last of the salsa from the bottom of the little white bowl, Brianna decided she didn’t want to fight tonight. She was finally feeling better, and even with that little chill in the air reminding her that school was starting in two days, it still felt like summer. She wanted to hold on to this night, this last glimpse of summer, and not screw it up with tears and name-calling and telling Dad what he didn’t want to hear. She looked out at the harbor, felt the breeze on her face, and thought she’d probably never see the end of summer again, so it was just easier to say, Okay, Dad.
Dad’s shoulders relaxed and slumped down. He’d been gearing up for a fight, and she could see the relief on his face. Thanks,
he said.
Brianna smiled. Least I can do.
Dad said, Well, we’ve gotta be up early tomorrow. I guess we should hit the road.
Brianna knew he also didn’t want her on the back of his bike after dark, but she decided not to bust his chops.
Dad raised his arm to signal the waitress, and the sleeve of his t-shirt slid up slightly, revealing the tattoo of Brianna’s name and birth date inside a heart. The waitress came over, and Brianna saw her eyes flit down to Dad’s massive bicep. Anything else for you tonight? Another Corona?
she asked hopefully.
Not tonight,
Dad said. Driving.
The waitress smiled. Okay then,
she said, gathering up their plates. Let me just get this out of your way, and I’ll be right back with your check.
Thanks,
Dad said.
Brianna looked over to the beach. It was getting dark, and she could see the last few dedicated beachgoers gathering up their coolers, blankets, towels, and umbrellas, and heading away from the sea. She fought back a pang of sadness. Every other September she could remember, she’d been excited about the start of school, the new classes, the new clothes—it had always felt exciting, like everything was starting fresh.
But now, looking at those few sad people gathering up their stuff from the beach for probably the last time this summer, she didn’t feel like anything new or exciting was starting; she just felt like something was ending.
The sound of weights clanking together woke her up. It was still dark. She shuffled to the bathroom, still hearing the annoying rhythmic clanking coming from the garage. She peed, then went to the kitchen and got her handful of pills from the Wednesday section of the pill box. She grabbed a bag of pretzels from the cabinet and a Gatorade.
She plopped on the couch and turned the TV on. She watched CNN without really taking it in, washing down the pills and pretzels with Gatorade.
Finally the clanking stopped and footsteps approached. I’m just gonna get showered, hon, okay?
Please do. You reek.
Dad smiled. Nice breakfast there.
Don’t worry—I’ll chug an Ensure later.
I mean, what the hell are you drinking? What in nature is that color blue? Nothing! It looks like wiper fluid.
It is. I thought I’d go for a quick exit instead of this long slow decline thing.
Jesus, Bri, shut up.
Will you wash so we can get this over with? I gotta go hang with my best friends today.
Are you going back to group?
Jesus Christ Dad, stop asking about the group. I am not going back there.
It was bad enough that she had to go to the hospital today. There was no way she was going to group.
Dad looked sad and turned away without saying anything. Brianna insantly felt bad; she didn’t want to fight last night because that was the end of summer, but this was the beginning of real life again, and she was grumpy. I’m sorry!
she yelled down the hall as he went into the bathroom.
She heard Forgiven!
in a muffled tone from behind the door, and then the noise of the shower. More yakity-yak on CNN that she couldn’t bring herself to pay attention to.
Dad came into the living room dressed in khakis and a white button-down shirt. She was glad he wasn’t wearing the purple vest. He used to just put it on when he got dressed, but Brianna told him it was way too dorky and he had to wait until he got to Bargain Zone to put it on. She didn’t tell him it was just depressing to see him in that hideous vest.
Can we turn off the TV?
Dad asked.
Geez, Dad, you always seem very interested in CNN when Soledad O’Brien is on.
Dad smiled. Yeah, well, she’s a very talented anchor.
And she’s not on till seven. Fine, how about–
Brianna pushed buttons on the remote– Dora the Explorer?
Fine. As long as it’s not friggin rap videos.
Brianna thought about saying something, but she decided she’d grumped at Dad enough for one morning. Dad began the process of percussing her body to loosen the gunk inside. They had vests that could do this stuff for you, but Dad’s crappy insurance wouldn’t pay for it for a dependent child, which meant she could only get one if she was independent, in which case Dad’s crappy insurance wouldn’t cover her anyway. So Dad beat her every morning, then turned her over and beat her some more. She got a fair amount of mileage out of this joke—when people asked how her day was, she would often say something like, It started with some huge tattooed guy beating me, so it can pretty much only get better.
Brianna coughed and spat a lump of gunk into a paper towel. Juicy!
she said.
Ah, you can do better than that. You call that mucous?
Dad said. I’ve seen thicker gunk on ketchup bottles.
Brianna started to laugh, which of course led to coughing, which in turn led to an even bigger gob of mucous being dislodged and spat out.
"Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about, Dad said, smiling.
You driving to your appointments today?"
Brianna rolled her eyes and said, Of course!
Are you sure you’re feeling up to it? I mean, we can call for a ride, you know. Cindy’s always home, and she said she’d give you a ride anytime you needed it, or I can drive you to the commuter rail. You seem tired. You’ve been on the couch since you got up.
Dad, if you made pretty much any teenager get up at five-thirty, you’d see the same thing.
Dad’s face did that thing again. Bri, you know I have to be at the store at seven or I’ll–
I know, Dad,
she said quietly. I didn’t mean … I’m sorry, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad. Anyway, I’m driving.
Dad looked like he was about to say something, but then seemed to change his mind. Listen, it’s supposed to rain today, and you know the bridge gets really slippery in the rain, and people always drive like idiots …
Dad, I’ll be fine,
Brianna said, exasperated. Are you riding your bike in the rain today?
Yeah, but I’m not driving all the way into Boston.
He paused, looking like Brianna had felt last night—like it was just easier not to fight. Okay, okay. Ask Dr. Patel to call me, will you?
Yeah.
Dad enfolded her in a hug, and Brianna wondered again how she could share DNA with this guy who seemed about four times her size.
I love you, sweetie.
You too, Daddy.
Dad walked out into the garage, pulled on his helmet and jacket, and started his bike.
Brianna watched him roar off down the street, then headed to her car—a Pontiac Sunfire that was like ten years old and had a hundred and three thousand miles. Sometimes Brianna joked that her main hope in life was that her car would die before she did. Nobody laughed at that in group, nobody even gave a little smile like they had thought that too, like they got that they were wearing clothes that somebody would buy at Goodwill when their grieving parents donated them. They were all about Not Letting Cystic Fibrosis Hold Me Back, and rock climbing and worrying about how to get their scrawny bodies to look good in a prom dress.
She started the Sunfire and drove too fast to the highway. The car had no pickup and was topping out at about sixty-six mph these days, but it could take a corner fast, so accelerating into the turns from her house to the highway was pretty much the only fun it offered her.
There was nothing that could successfully distract Brianna from the feelings that driving down Route 1 into Boston brought up.
She clenched her teeth really hard and tried not to think about sitting in the passenger seat with Dad behind the wheel in a suit, on their way to Molly’s funeral at Holy Name Church in West Roxbury six months ago. She passed the gigantic cactus outside the steakhouse and remembered seeing it all blurred through tears, coughing and crying and Dad not saying anything, because what could he say?
When she reached the orange dinosaur at the mini-golf place, the view in her mind suddenly switched. She remembered another trip down Route 1 two months ago, herself in the passenger seat in tears again, this time saying, I’m next, Daddy, I’m next, I’m not ready,
and this time Dad saying, You’re not next, Bri, you’re not. You’ve beaten infections before, sweetie. This is routine for you.
When she got to the Tobin Bridge, she glanced at the water far below the brigde. She noted the sign for the jumpers: Feeling Desperate? Call the Samaritans.
If I ever decide to take a dive off this bridge, she thought, I’m taking this car with me, and there’ll be no time to call the Samaritans. She’d done it in her mind a million times—she always saw herself shooting off the edge, flying through the air in slow motion, frozen at the top of the arc for a long second, perfect, like in a movie.
She wondered if she’d make a big splash or if the car would shatter when it hit the water. If she had a pencil, she might be able to calculate the amount of force she would hit with, figuring the Sunfire weighed about a ton, but she didn’t know how much impact the Sunfire’s frame could withstand, so doing the math couldn’t answer her question unless she could fill in that variable. She doubted that was the kind of information Pontiac had on their Web site: here’s how much force you can apply to our vehicles before they smash into a million pieces.
She thought of not just the car, but herself shattering into a million pieces, none of which would ever have to go back to the hospital, none of which would ever have to work so damn hard to breathe.
She reached the toll booth, paid her three bucks and kept driving. Maybe someday, she thought. Just not today.
easy for you to say
With traffic and parking and showing her little card and walking through all the concerned