Dash & Lily meets Ferris Bueller’s Day Off in Edward Underhill’s new whirlwind rom-com about two queer teens who spend one life-changing day together in New York City.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Edward Underhill’s This Day Changes Everything, which releases on February 13th 2024.
Abby Akerman believes in the Universe. After all, her Midwest high school marching band is about to perform in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade in New York City—if that’s not proof that magical things can happen, what is? New York also happens to be the setting of her favorite romance novel, making it the perfect place for Abby to finally tell her best friend Kat that she’s in love with her (and, um, gay). She’s carefully annotated a copy of the book as a gift for Kat, and she’s counting on the Universe to provide an Epic Scene worthy of her own rom-com.
Leo Brewer, on the other hand, just wants to get through this trip without falling apart. He doesn’t believe the Universe is magical at all, mostly because he’s about to be outed to his very Southern extended family on national TV as the trans boy he really is. He’s not excited for the parade, and he’s even less excited for an entire day of sightseeing with his band.
But the Universe has other ideas. When fate throws Abby and Leo together on the wrong subway train, they soon find themselves lost in the middle of Manhattan. Even worse, Leo accidentally causes Abby to lose her Epic Gift for Kat. So to salvage the day, they come up with a new mission: find a souvenir from every location mentioned in the book for Abby to give Kat instead. But as Leo and Abby traverse the city, from the streets of Chinatown to the halls of Grand Central Station and the top of the Empire State Building, their initial expectations for the trip—and of each other—begin to shift. Maybe, if they let it, this could be the day that changes everything, for both of them.
TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 21—4:00 p.m.
ABBY
There’s a scene in my favorite book, The Hundred Romances of Clara Jane, where the main character (Clara Jane) takes an elevator to the top of the Empire State Building in New York City, and just before the doors open, she realizes she’s about to be free, because she is really, truly, madly in love with the guy who’s waiting on the other side.
See, the whole setup for this book is that Clara Jane keeps living the same day over and over, but each time, she falls in love with a different guy. At the end of the day, she takes the elevator up to the top of the Empire State Building to meet whichever guy she’s fallen for this time, but on the ride up, she realizes he’s not really her true love. He’s the wrong guy. And as soon as she realizes that, the day starts over. She never makes it to the top.
But at the end of the book, she takes the elevator up and realizes that this guy (his name is Chris—kind of a boring name, if you ask me) is her true love. The elevator doors finally open, she sees Chris, and they kiss at the top of the Empire State Building, breaking the time loop.
It’s not a great book. I mean, the dreamboat guy’s name is Chris. And Clara Jane doesn’t really have a hundred romances. She has eight. I guess the author thought The Hundred Romances of Clara Jane sounded better than, like, The Eight Romances of Clara Jane.
Which it does. A lot of people have probably had eight romances.
People who aren’t me, anyway.
I read a theory on Tumblr suggesting that Clara Jane could have been living the same day over and over before the book even starts, so she actually has had a hundred romances, and we just don’t see them all. But I’ve read this book twenty-four (and a half) times, and I think it’s perfectly obvious that Clara Jane hasn’t relived the same day over and over before the book starts, and the first romance in the book is, in fact, her first one.
Although, just to be safe, I sent the author an email asking for clarification, care of her publisher. She never replied.
Anyway, The Hundred Romances of Clara Jane may not be a Great Book, but I love it. Even though it’s cheesy.
Because the truth is . . . I’m cheesy. I believe in fate. And true love. And kissing your true love at the top of the Empire State Building.
I guess what I mean is—I believe in the Universe. That sometimes you end up in the right place at the right time, or with the right person, and (sometimes) magical things really can happen.
I hope I’m right about that. Because I’m leaving a lot to the Universe on this trip, and I could really use the help.
I might be kind of cheesy, but I don’t think I’m completely out of my mind. I mean, the Universe has already made some magic happen. Right now, our entire marching band from Westvale, Missouri—all ninety-six of us, plus our band director, assistant band directors, chaperones, instruments, flags, and uniforms—is heading to New York City for the biggest marching event in the country: the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
Hundreds of bands sent in audition tapes, hoping for one of a dozen slots, according to our band director, Mr. Sussman. And Macy’s picked us to be one of those bands. We were “unique, polished, fun, and quirky.” That’s what the rep from Macy’s told us when he showed up in our band room eighteen months ago, armed with a confetti cannon and a giant banner that said You’re Going to the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade!
The rest of that day was a blur of screaming and laughing and crying and ducking into the band room between classes to make sure that big, bright banner was still there, strung up over the percussion lockers. It was pretty freaking magical, especially since all I’d ever wanted was to play clarinet in the marching band at my older brother’s football games, instead of joining the debate team, like my mom suggested.
Not that I would have made the debate team in a million years anyway. I can memorize and perform a whole halftime show no problem, but the minute I have to talk in front of a lot of people, I want to sink into the floor.
Our band spent the next eighteen months putting together a performance and raising money to get ourselves all the way from our boring sorta-suburb of Kansas City to New York. We practiced in the mornings, in the evenings, on weekends. In the band room, on the football field, in the high school parking lot on a giant green tarp with the Macy’s Parade logo on it, held down by traffic cones borrowed from the driver’s ed teacher. (Our school had the tarp specially made, just to practice with. It’s exactly the size of the big green rectangle on Thirty-Fourth Street, so we could plan every formation, every step, to perfectly fit.)
We marched across that tarp hundreds, maybe thousands, of times, all on top of the usual football games we had to play. On top of last spring’s concert band schedule. On top of marching in the Kansas City Fourth of July Parade and playing in the park before the local Westvale fireworks show. On top of two state championships.
And whenever we weren’t practicing, we were fundraising. Car washes. Bake sales. I literally celebrated my sixteenth birthday at a pancake breakfast (not as fun as it sounds when you’re the one serving the pancakes).
But now—finally finally finally—it’s here. In two days, on Thanksgiving morning, we’ll be marching down Sixth Avenue in our purple-and-white uniforms, with white feather plumes in our shakos, surrounded by giant balloons and decked-out floats filled with Broadway stars. We’ll perform a medley of jazzed-up Christmas carols while our color guard waves red-and-green flags in front of all those cameras. Millions of people will watch us live on national TV.
And, I mean, that’s magic. One day I’m scooping ice cream at Sundae Fun Day to add something to my college fund, and the next, I’m scooping ice cream at Sundae Fun Day while everybody who comes in tells me congratulations. Going from being a nobody to getting a bigger cheer during halftime than the football team gets during the whole game is . . . well, it’s magic. There’s no way that’s not some Universe-intervention magic.
So, the way I see it, if the Universe can do that—if the Universe can get our band from Missouri to Macy’s—then maybe it can help me tell Kat Wu I’m madly in love with her.
From This Day Changes Everything, by Edward Underhill. Copyright © 2024 by the author, and reprinted with permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group
