Corey Campbell is an adult and has been since the age of 16. While everyone else was taking their driving test she was moving in with her big brother Jackson and legally emancipated from their dear old mom. (That part’s a rather long story. There’s no need to bore you with the gory details just yet.)
Now here she is, a little over a year later, still trying to find her way. When Jackson moves halfway across the country she’s left to discover what being a grown-up on her own for the first time looks like in her world. The only bright side to her security blanket leaving? Well, she still has her best friend Elvis to keep her head above water.
Oh, and then there’s Riley. Riley with the curly hair and dimple. Riley, the fellow comic book lover and photographer. Riley, who will soon be Corey’s…well…her everything.
My name is Corey. It means strong and lively. I’ve never been told why I was named Corey, but it might be the only thing my mom has ever done in my favor. At least until she deemed it the reason I was so, in her words, rebellious that she started calling me Leah when I turned 11. Leah, by the way, means weary which I refuse to be.
I guess some people would call this a love story, which would be fair since Riley was my first love. But I prefer to think of it as a story about living life by your own rules, moving on, and the people who taught me that family doesn’t require sharing DNA or even the same last name.
“You can’t change your history. But you can choose to relinquish the anger, and you can choose to recognise that there’s no perfect way to cultivate a person.”