mary ann mcguigan

Eileen hates her defeated, joyless family and their poverty. She wants a guitar more than she’s ever wanted anything—badly enough to believe her shiftless father when he says he’ll get her one. Her sister, Deirdre, laughs at her for believing his tired promises. Her mother has no patience for selfish dreams. Life means only struggle for her: raising her daughters and eight-year-old Neal, whose stuttering has become something forbidden to mention. 

When Eileen and Neal meet Liz, a college student, Eileen plays her same old game, pretending she comes from a normal, caring family, from a good neighborhood. Liz offers her lessons, a chance to buy a guitar on easy terms, and a way to help Neal overcome his stuttering. It becomes harder and harder for Eileen to lie about her family, about the job she took to pay for lessons, about her mother’s refusal to accept that Neal needs help. Then one cataclysmic day, the truth catches up with her. 

Unless she can summon the courage to trust someone, Eileen may never see that she has a self worth believing in—and the right to have a dream and make it real. But for Eileen, trust is a dangerous thing.