All Better Now

An Instant New York Times Bestseller

From New York Times bestselling author Neal Shusterman comes a young adult thriller about a world where happiness is contagious but the risks of catching it may be just as dangerous as the cure.

A deadly and unprecedented virus is spreading. But those who survive it experience long-term effects no one has ever seen before: utter contentment. Soon after infection, people find the stress, depression, greed, and other negative feelings that used to weigh them down are gone.

More and more people begin to revel in the mass unburdening. But not everyone. People in power-who depend on malcontents and prey on the insecure to sell their products, and convince others they need more, new, faster, better everything-know this new state of being is bad for business. Surely, without anger or jealousy as motivators, productivity will grind to a halt and the world will be thrown into chaos. Campaigns start up to convince people that being eternally happy is dangerous. The race to find a vaccine begins. Meanwhile, a growing movement of Recoverees plans ways to spread the virus as fast as they can, in the name of saving the world.

It's nearly impossible to determine the truth when everyone with a platform is pushing their agenda. Three teens from very different backgrounds who've had their lives upended in very different ways find themselves at the center of a power play that could change humanity forever.

Autorentext
Neal Shusterman is the New York Times bestselling author of more than thirty award-winning books for children, teens, and adults, including the Unwind dystology, the Skinjacker trilogy, Downsiders, and Challenger Deep, which won the National Book Award. Scythe, the first book in his series Arc of a Scythe is a Michael L. Printz Honor Book. He also writes screenplays for motion pictures and television shows. Neal is the father of four, all of whom are talented writers and artists themselves. Visit Neal at StoryMan.com and Facebook.com/NealShusterman.

Leseprobe
Chapter 1: Mariel Rides Space Mountain 1 Mariel Rides Space Mountain
It was the wrong time to be living on the streets.

Not that there was ever a right time, but this new disease-it was picking up steam, threatening to be another pandem-No. No, Mariel didn't even want to invoke the P word. As if just thinking it would make it so.

"It's not so bad, baby," her mother told her. "It's not like we gotta be near people. Even out here we can find ways to isolate. We don't gotta be near anyone if we don't want to be."

Mariel's mother lived in denial. Truly lived there. If denial were a solid piece of real estate, Gena Mudroch would have a mansion on it. Or at least a garage so they'd finally have a safe and legal place to park their beat-up Fiesta.

Right now it was parked, all right. Behind a fence at the impound. Which was why Mariel and Gena were standing on a dark street in the seediest industrial part of town, in the middle of the night, waiting on someone who was, in theory, going to help them break their car out.

Unlike her mother, Mariel did not live in a constant state of denial. She was practical. A realist. She had to be; practicality was more than a survival skill-it was her superpower. Because without it, her mom would probably be dead, and Mariel would have been swallowed whole by the foster care system years ago.

"Maybe...," began Mariel. "Maybe we should be with people."

"What, and catch this thing? No way!"

"But maybe we should get it over with quick. You know-before the hospitals get full, while there are still services for us."

Her mom brushed her straggly hair out of her eyes. "I know what you're thinking," she said, giving Mariel her suspicious look-the one she usually reserved for anyone and everyone else. "You can't really believe what the nuts out there are saying?"

"I know it sounds... out there... but there's always a chance it could be true."

"Since when do you listen to rumors, huh? You, who's gotta have scientific proof of everything under the sun!"

Her mother was right-rumor was the currency of ignorance. But anecdotal evidence had to count for something. "I've seen interviews with people who've had it," Mariel told her mom. "They seem... I don't know... different."

"How can you know they're different when you didn't know 'em to begin with?"

Mariel shrugged. "There's something in their eyes, Momma. Something... wise."

Her mother guffawed at that. "Trust me, no one gets smart from getting sick."

"I didn't say 'smart.' I said 'wise.'?"

But "wise" wasn't really the word for it either. "Centered" was more like it. Being at home. Even if you don't have one.

"You're dreaming," her mother said. "That's okay, you're allowed."

As practical as Mariel needed to be to survive life with her mother, she wasn't immune to the occasional flight of fancy. Especially when it gave her hope. She told herself that hanging on to hope was nothing like her mother's perpetual state of denial, but deep down, she knew hope and denial were reluctant neighbors. They glared at each other from across the same silty river of circumstance.

Across the lonely street, a man walked with a purposeful gait, which also seemed a bit loose, like his joints were made of rubber. Although he was mostly in shadow, Mariel could tell he glanced over at them. Was this the guy? Or was this just someone who was gonna bring them trouble? Turned out he was neither; he just continued on his merry way toward whatever place a rubbery man goes at two in the morning.

"That's not true, you know," she said to her mom, who