The phone is still on the floor of Yusef’s room. No service. Can’t even send a text and the last one received was from Tamara.
DUDE? Are you okay? Maplewood is burning!
“Shit,” I grumble, rubbing my temples, slumping back on the sofa. My shoulder hurts and my ankle is bleeding through the towel. I can’t move again, need to keep it elevated. One thing’s for sure, I won’t be running anywhere anytime soon.
“Animals,” Pop-Pop mutters, staring at the screen. “Don’t believe in the Lord.”
The look I give him could fry the remaining hairs off his head. They’re not animals, I want to snap, not just at him but at anyone who would listen. This is all a game! Why can’t anyone see that?
Maybe that’s it. Maybe they can’t see what the Foundation blocks the world from seeing. How can you see above it when you’re drowning in it? But that ends today. I’m going to make sure, if it’s the last thing I do, that everyone knows what happened here tonight and why. I’ll let people know the real deal about this place, tell the truth the media left out, scream it from every corner. I’ll share all Tamara’s research, publish my own book if I have to. I’m going to save our home, our city, from being taken over. My mission is fireproof and it feels good.
Change is good. Change is not always necessary. But the right change is most definitely needed.
“Did they catch that Jon Jon yet?” Pop-Pop asks without looking at us.
Piper tenses and I tap her leg, shaking my head discreetly.
“Nope,” I say to Pop-Pop. “Not yet.”
“Hmph,” Pop-Pop grumbles, and changes the channel to Scott Clark.
“‘So that the genuineness of your faith, more precious than gold, which though perishable is tested by fire.’ First Peter, chapter one, verse seven. Children of God, what you plant in faith, do not dig up in doubt. The Lord looks to you to spread his gospel, his righteous word. How do you expect your seeds to grow if you do not do the Lord’s bidding. . . .”
Piper leans in closer and whispers, “Do you think he’s okay?”
Tears spring up and I nod.
“Yeah.” And if not, he will be. I’ll make sure of it.
She thinks for a moment, then says, “We should leave him sandwiches before bedtime now. So he doesn’t get hungry. He likes tuna fish.”
It’s such a small, tender gesture, and then I realize . . . it’s something she’s been doing all along. Keeping them hidden, keeping them safe.
“Yeah,” I agree, smiling, pulling her close. “That sounds like a great idea.”
“‘And I will raise up for them a prophet like you from among their brothers. And I will put my words in his mouth, and he shall speak to them all that I command him.’ Children of God, the Lord has asked me to speak to you tonight, to do his will . . . for weeping may endure for the night, but joy cometh in the morning. I would not lead you astray. Trust me.”
Acknowledgments
A couple of things:
1) This was my first official venture into horror—a genre I’ve been in love with my entire life—yet I was still able to keep a toe in the psychological thriller space. Best of both worlds! I hope you’ve enjoyed it.
2) Season one, episode twenty-two of my favorite TV series of all time, The Twilight Zone, is the book’s iron spine. The closing narration of “The Monsters Are Due on Maple Street” depicts the theme flawlessly:
“The tools of conquest do not necessarily come with bombs and explosions and fallout. There are weapons that are simply thoughts, attitudes, prejudices to be found only in the minds of men. For the record, prejudices can kill, and suspicion can destroy, and a thoughtless, frightened search for a scapegoat has a fallout all of its own—for the children and the children yet unborn. And the pity of it is that these things cannot be confined . . . to the Twilight Zone.”
Not only was this a pandemic book, this was also the first time I’d ever experienced true writer’s block. I fussed, whined, and threw fits like a toddler. So I want to give major props to my editor, Ben Rosenthal, for working through the kinks and struggles with me.
To my lit agent, Natalie Lakosil, thank you for always tirelessly fighting for my needs and being my cheerleader. I appreciate you more than I can say. To my film agent, Mary Pender, thank you for seeing my potential and asking for what I’m worth plus interest.
Erin Fitzsimmons and Jeff Manning, thank you for such a stunning cover. It really is an iconic classic!
Huge shout-out to the publicity and marketing team at HarperCollins. I know you all had to pivot in a major way while juggling a million projects during a global pandemic, and your efforts do not go unnoticed. Thank you for your continued support of my career.
Props to my beta readers and fellow horror lovers, Mark Oshiro and Lamar Giles, as well as Kwame Mbalia and Justin Reynolds for being apart of the writing council. Thanks to Dhonielle Clayton, Nic Stone, and Ashley Woodfolk for encouraging me to not settle for less than I deserve.
Thank you to all the bloggers, reviewers, Instagrammers, and TikTokers who shouted out my books and for the endless support. You bring me so much joy.
Thank you to my parents for watching my naughty dog child while I got my swagger back at writing retreats and for being never-ending book marketers.
Most importantly, to R.L. Stine. I am honored to have your name on the cover of this book. I would not be the writer I am today if I didn’t have you to inspire me. Trying not to cry while I write this, so I’ll just simply say thank you for saving me.
About the Author
Photo by Andrew Fennell
TIFFANY D. JACKSON is the New York Times bestselling author of Grown, Allegedly, Monday’s Not Coming, and Let Me Hear a Rhyme and coauthor of Blackout. A Walter Dean Myers Honor Book and Coretta Scott King–John Steptoe New Talent Award winner, she received her bachelor of arts in film from Howard University, earned her master of arts in media studies from the New School, and has over a decade of TV and film experience. The Brooklyn native still resides in the borough she loves. You can visit her at www.writeinbk.com.
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Books by Tiffany D. Jackson
Allegedly
Monday’s Not Coming
Let Me Hear a Rhyme
Grown
White Smoke
The Weight of Blood
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Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
WHITE SMOKE. Copyright © 2021 by Tiffany D. Jackson. Dialogue from The Twilight Zone—Courtesy of CBS Broadcasting Inc. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
www.epicreads.com
Cover art © 2021 by Jeff Manning; photo by ohlamour studio/Stocksy
Cover design by Erin Fitzsimmons
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Digital Edition SEPTEMBER 2021 ISBN: 978-0-06-302911-8
Print ISBN: 978-0-06-302909-5
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2122232425PC/LSCH10987654321
FIRST EDITION
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