By Courtney Summers
The sheriff's son, Kellan Turner, isn't the golden boy each person thinks he's, and Romy gray understands that for a truth. simply because not anyone desires to think a woman from the incorrect aspect of city, the reality approximately him has price her everything—friends, kin, and her neighborhood. Branded a liar and bullied relentlessly by way of a bunch of youngsters she used to hang around with, Romy's merely safe haven is the diner the place she works outdoors of city. nobody is aware her identify or her previous there; she will ultimately be nameless. but if a woman with ties to either Romy and Kellan is going lacking after a celebration, and information of him assaulting one other woman in a city within sight will get out, Romy needs to come to a decision even if she desires to struggle or hold the weight of figuring out extra ladies may perhaps get damage if she doesn't communicate up. no one believed her the 1st time—and they definitely won't now—but the price of her silence can be greater than she will be able to bear.
With a stunning end and writing that might totally knock you out, Courtney Summers' new novel All the Rage examines the disgrace and silence inflicted upon younger women in a tradition that refuses to guard them.
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Extra info for All the Rage
Not briefed? Hmmmm . ” He frowned. ” Deeba said. ” said Obaday Fing, waving at his stall. * * * UN LUN DUN 41 Obaday’s assistants looked up from their stitching. One or two had a few needles and pins wedged into their heads, in among plaits and ponytails. At the rear of the stall sat a ﬁgure writing at a huge sheet of paper. Where its head should be was a big glass jar full of black ink, into which it dipped its pen. “Simon Atramenti,” Obaday said. The inkwell-headed person waved with stained ﬁngers and returned to its writing.
There was that frenetic buzzing. From a little hole in the back of her phone burst a handful of wasps. Deeba shrieked and dropped the phone, and the wasps ﬂew off in different directions. Her phone was broken. She sat heavily at the pillar’s base. Zanna stared at her, and her face began to crease. “It’ll be okay,” said Deeba. “Don’t. ” said Zanna. ” Zanna and Deeba stared at each other. From her wallet, Zanna drew out the strange travelcard she had been sent, weeks ago. She stared at it as if it might contain some clue, some advice.
They were immediately surrounded by the animated jabbering of a market morning. Deeba and Zanna kept looking up at that extraordinary hollow sun, but the scene around them was almost as bizarre. There were people in all kinds of uniforms: mechanics’ overalls smeared in oil; ﬁreﬁghters’ protective clothes; doctors’ white coats; the blue of police; and others, including people in the neat suits of waiters, with cloths over one arm. All these uniforms looked like dressing-up costumes. They were too neat, and somehow a bit too simple.