Can Katie hold her family together even as shes distracted by and drawn into the crime itself?
ENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY: Where did the inspiration forYou Will Know Mecome from?
MEGAN ABBOTT:It was so specific in this case.
I was watching footage of the parents of gymnast Aly Raisman as they watched her compete in Olympic qualifiers.
It became a briefviral videophenomenon because in part it was funny how invested they were.
How power must operate in those kinds of families.
The books sprang from that.
What is it about the world of adolescent girls that you find fascinating and scary?
Why do you keep coming back to it?
And trying to give voice to them as best I can.
I think women are always trying to figure out their own adolescence.
What kind of research did you do about the world of gymnastics (and gymnastics parents)?
What was the most surprising thing you learned?
It was fascinating to me, and complicated.
All eyes are on you.
What are the biggest challenges when distilling your novels into TV scripts?
Its a weird contradiction because youre both distilling and building out the worlds of the books.
My novels tend to be pretty interior and thats a challenge in the adaptation process.
How do you keep track of all the projects you have going on at once?
Can you work on them concurrently, or do you have to finish one at a time?
I can do them concurrently, thankfully.
I have separate playlists, a separate set of images, a separate voice in my head for each.
Read an excerpt from Abbots new book below.
EXCERPT fromYOU WILL KNOW MEby Megan Abbott
The Party
Go Devon!
Next Stop: Elite Qualifiers!
Im so proud of you, sweetie, Katie whispered in her daughters ear.
you might do anything.
From there, anything felt possible.
It was the giddiest Katie had ever seen her daughter.
But Devon never gets in trouble, hed said.
Not for sassing, or doing the treadmill when shes supposed to rest her knee.
Not even for sneaking out at night.
I never snuck out, Devon had insisted.
You were dreaming, Katie had reminded him.
Buddy, Eric had said.
Let your sister have her night.
Devon sucks c ), only stopping, midsentence, at his wifes glare.
But Eric had heard it.
She could tell by the way his back stiffened, his jaw tightened.
Shed grabbed for his hand.
Because look at her, he said.
Just look at our once-and- future champ.
Less than five feet tall, a hard, smooth shell of a body.
The world is hers now.
Just like I promised, Katie-did!
Had that really happened?
It had, and it all made sense that night, the holy consummation of everything.
I wish I could do what you do, Kirsten Siefert kept saying to Katie.
I want it for Jordan.
I want to know everything you did.
If its not too late.
Have you seen Jordans breasts?
But Tansys only seven .
And there was that remarkable conversation with the booster vice president, Molly Chu.
I remember watching her and thinking:That is all I want.
Id twirl in the front yard for hours, she said.
It looked like a pinwheel in the sun.
She glanced at Katie, her eyes filling.
Remember that kind of wanting?
That kind thats just for yourself?
And you dont even have to feel guilty about it?
You wouldnt know to.
Looking around, she wondered,Is it this?
Its free then, Molly said, watching the girls, tilting her head and blinking fast.
Its never free again.
Katie said, because shed lost the thread, if shed ever had it.
But the music swallowed them, and then someone brought out a tray of shots, flaming.
A thought came to her rum-soaked head:Hes never loved me more than this.
Something else I owe Devon.
This would be the piece that mattered most later, months later when Ryan was gone.
She would think of their arrival and wonder why she hadnt seen it all coming.
But who could have seen anything at all that night but their bright-spangled beauty?
And Ryan, whose arrival sent all the girls into satellites of whispered frenzy.
The only one here more handsome than your husband, said Becca Plonski, laughing.
And suddenly there was Molly Chu again.
My,Katie thought,it is like a pinwheel.
It was great, it was great.
That one whod been talking trash about our Devon.
And Eric just let him have it.
Hell, I was glad to see it.
Then came the part that seemed like nothing at the time.
Everyone was smoking, it turned out.
Ryan, who smelled like soap and had the nicked, brambled hands of a cook.
Heisa momtini, whispered Kirsten Siefert, nearly rubbing her hands.
Turning to her mother, she looked oddly blank.
And then Drew, gorged on coconut cake, threw up into Katies hands.
But none of it mattered, everything felt wonderful and she and Eric laughed and laughed.
Back in the bedroom, Eric standing over her, his face hidden in the dark.
The creep who called Devon that name?
In the parking lot, did you
Who told you that?
he said, laughing, his hands hooked around her legs, throwing her back on the bed.
It reminded her of when they first met, that laugh.
Shed sold him cotton candy at the Kiwanis fair.
They knew each other most deeply through body-warmed sheets and the tangle of half dreams.
You might think it would doom the marriage, unless you pondered it for one more beat.
You were mysterious to him and he was mysterious to you.
They had been together more than sixteen years, so long, and a part of it was this.
Strangely, in part it was because of Devon.
They shared so much in sharing her, her endeavor.
She held them together, tightly.
The morning after the party, Katie turned over and saw a violet smear on her pillowcase.
It took her a while to remember.
A tap on the shoulder and it was Ryan Beck again.
Smiling that chipped-front-tooth smile.
Dangling from his open palm was a fa- miliar lei, purple and green orchids, petals shredded.
I found it over by the dumpsters.
A squeak, a skid.
Careful, Katie said, a catch in her voice.
Good night, Mrs. Knox.
The eyes of a young girl can tell everything.
And I always look in their eyes.
There I can see if I will have a champion.
Before Coach T. and Hailey and Ryan Beck.
And Katie would tell it in three parts.
You could only begin to understand what happened, and why, if you understood these three things.
Because that had been there from the beginning, maybe even before the beginning.
Soon, it turned to kicking.
Eric stared helplessly at the way her stomach seemed to spasm with alien horrors.
What was inside her, they wondered, her rib poking over her sternum, dislocated while she slept.
It was no alien, but it was something extraordinary.
It was Devon, a marvel, a girl wonder, a prodigy, a star.
Devon, kicking her way out.
Out, out, out.
And they had made her.
And, in some ways, she had made them.
It was reassuring somehow.
It reminded her that it had always been there, that force in Devon, that fire.
Like that line in that poem, the one shed read in school, a lifetime ago.
Back when life felt so cramped and small, when she never thought anything so grand could ever happen.
The force that through the green fuse drives the flower.
Shes been doing it since she was three?
How is that even possible?
Thats what other people, never gym people, always said.
No one ever believed Katie and Eric had never cared about sports, or even competition.
Eric had played high-school baseball, indifferently.
My three-year-old just wanted to play, theyd say smugly.
We just let her play.
As if it had ever been a choice, or a decision.
It started as play, Eric always told people.
It started with the trampoline.
The trampoline was the better story, an easier one, but it wasnt the truth.
Because the trampoline came after the accident, came after the Foot.
And the accident was how it truly began.
How that force in her found its fuse.
Three-year-old Devon, barefoot, running across the lawn to Daddy.
It could have been worse, their pediatrician, Dr. Yossarian, told them later.
Sometimes with the riding mowers, the whole foot pops off.
And he made an appalling pucker sound with his mouth.
But what can we do?
Eric asked, even as Dr. Yossarian assured them Devon would be fine.
There must be something.
So Dr. Yossarian suggested kiddie soccer, or ice-skating, or tumbling, something.
Itll help with balance, he said.
Fate, destiny, retroactivated by a Sears Craftsman.
At first, shell be overly cautious, Dr. Yossarian warned, but take a stab at push her.
Except it was just the opposite.
Within a few weeks, Devon was forward- and backward-rolling.
Next came chin-ups, hand- stands, cartwheels as accomplished as those of girls twice her age.
The Human Rubber Band, Katie called her.
Supergirl, Eric called her.Monkey-bar superstar!
And, in some mysterious way, it was as if the foot were helping her.
Frankenfoot, Katie dubbed it.
Making it their private joke.
Show Mommy how you work that Frankenfoot.
And Im going to let my daughter plant her dimpled feet on that and do kicks and dips?
Prodigy, Katie whispered in her most private thoughts but never said aloud.
He said it a lot.
And so Eric installed the trampoline.
Hours, days devoted to making the yard ready for her talent, laying thick mats like dominoes.
And so gymnastics became the center, the mighty spine of everything for them.
Gym tuition, meet fees, equipment, travel, booster fees.
She and Eric had stopped counting, gradually becoming used to swelling credit-card debt.
Then, when Drew came along, their delicate, thoughtful son, nothing changed.
Quiet, easy, he fit so perfectly in temperament, in disposition with everything that was already happening.
I beat everybody, she said, solemnly.
I was better than everybody.
Her eyelashes blinking slowly, like she was surprised.
You gotta get her out of there, a competition judge confided to Eric the following day.
Ditch that strip-mall gym.
Get her to BelStars.
Get her to Coach T.
You keep her here, itll all go to waste.
And that very night Eric began researching second mortgages.
It was, Katie had to admit, exciting.
Coach Teddy Belfour watched Devons tryout, rapt.
Bring her to BelStars and shell find the extent of her power.
Well find it together.
That was how he talked, how he was.
He thought she would be terrified by the time they finished the gauntlet.
But instead shed looked up at him, her eyes dark and blazing, and said, Im ready.
And overnight BelStars became their whole world.
All of it gray, severe, powerful.
Barking orders at everyone but Devon.
(She doesnt need it, he said.
She just needs our faith.)
This was the place Devon began spending twenty-five hours a week, before school, after school, weekends.
But it was impossible not to watch Devon.
Katie and Eric tried never to say the wordOlympics.But it was hard not to think about.
Because it was all anyone at BelStars thought about.
Once in a generation, one of the other parents said, watching Devon.
You never think youll hear a phrase that big in real life, much less find yourself believing it.
You never think your life will be that big.
Just after Devons tenth birthday, Coach T. pulled Katie aside.
You and Eric and me, he whispered so no other parent could hear.
To talk about our girls future.
Because I see things bright and bountiful.
It was titled The Track.
My friends, this is a decision point, he said, perpetually bloodshot eyes staring over at them.
We are, Eric said.
Yes, Katie said.
Teddy laughed buoyantly, and then they all did.
Then, turning the easel paper toward her, he waved his pen, magician-like, and explained.
Devons on the brink of becoming a Level Ten gymnast, he said.
And she can top out at Ten, he said, shrugging a little.
And be proud of herself.
Compete in big events across the country.
Attract recruiters for a college scholarship.
He looked at them, that forever-ruddy face, the dampness of his bloodhound eyes.
Or she can take the other path, the narrow one.
The one for the very few indeed.
E-lite.It was all anyone talked about in the gym.Elite-Elite- Elite.A constant purr under their tongues.
The trip of thel, the cut of thet.
Going Elite means going from competing nationally to competing internationally, Teddy said.
If this is the desired track, she needs to qualify as an Elite gymnast.
First, Junior Elite, and shes not even close to ready yet.
Im shooting for her thirteenth birthday.
Then Senior Elite, the year she turns sixteen.
All three were silent for a moment.
Eric looked at Katie, who looked back at him, trying not to smile.
An Elite career lasts five or six years, max.
But each year, the hundred, hundred and twenty Elites compete to land spots on the national team.
Then, with his thickest Sharpie, he underlined the wordsOlympic Teamand circled it, and starred it.
The words themselves like magic, an incantation.
Katie felt for Erics arm and then began to pull back, embarrassed.
But Eric grabbed for her, clutched her hand.
Then, God willing, Devon makes the world championship team.
Eric exhaled, looking down at the rug.
So, he said, you see it?
Teddy nodded once, slowly.
But you should probably commit.
It takes a family to make this happen.
And it takes action.
Devon needs to be here at least thirty hours a week, maybe more.
We need to get her before she changes.
Changes, he said, nodding again, grimly this time.
Then, in a flash, turning a smile on.
Well, you cant stop that, Katie said, smiling too.
No, Teddy said, laughing with sudden loudness.
And it happened, just like hed said it would.
Just as the Track foretold.
That spring, Devon reached Level 10.
One of only ninety-six in the state.
Id like you all to meet my niece, Teddy said.
Well, shes like a daughter to me.
I couldnt deal with my mom, Hailey confided, leaning close to Katie.
And she couldnt deal with me.
We were both being brats.
Which just showed the kind of man Teddy was, why Devon was in such able, loving hands.
I was always good on the beam, but I wasnt anything like Devon, Hailey added.
And my mom was nothing like you.
And Katie, maybe a little tipsy, found herself tearing up.
One more toast to our Devon the Invincible!
She drew her index finger across her front teeth, as if it were too sweet.
Why are you all looking at Devon?
little Drew asked, head darting from one to the next.
And Coach T. laughed.
Im telling you, he was talking about her foot.
Oh, Eric, Katie said, wrapping her hands around his forearms.
For a second, Katie thought he might say something, an admission.I cant believe I didnt see her.
I cant believe I was so careless
In all marriages, there are questions you never ask.
I think about what we did, he continued.
His words landing fully.
Whatwedid, she began, head tilting.
We
She was different before, Eric said.
And thewedrifted away, forgotten.
She was only three when it happened, she insisted.
There was no Devon before.
There was no Devon before.
Because even Mom thought her foot made her look like a monster.
Hearing it was like a punch in the stomach.
Why didnt she say something to me?
she asked Eric, and he said she was probably embarrassed.
She had less sensation there, and could hold the beam longer without pain.
But she never felt pain anyway.
Not like the other girls.
Ripped and peeling from the beam.
Deformed, clawed, just like that nightmare Drew once had (Devon was achicken hawk, Mom.
With needles instead of feet).
Im the worst mother ever, Katie said, and Eric shook his head, reassured her.
Thats what parenthood was about, wasnt it?
Slowly understanding your child less and less until she wasnt yours anymore but herself.
Especially Devon, who kept so much inside.
Shes a thinker, a worrier, Eric sometimes said.
A serious girl,thats what all her teachers said.
Old beyond her years;they said that too.
That was what gymnastics did, though.
It aged girls and kept them young forever at the same time.
Ice Eyes, the other girls called her.
Staring at her from the sidelines.
They all wanted to be like that.
Look at Devon, Coach T. always said.She doesnt give away any of her secrets.
Copyright 2016 by Megan Abbott
