Debbie had to get up and slice me a thick piece of cake before she could answer. And I do mean thick. Harry Potter volume seven thick. I could have knocked out a burglar with this piece of cake. Once I tasted it, though, it seemed just the right size.
When they separated, the freckleless spot between Pete's eyes was bright red. Before anything else could be said or done, May grabbed her bike and hopped on. She waited until she was six houses down to turn and see if he was still standing in the driveway watching her. He was. She stopped for just a moment, and they caught each other's eyes. Then he slowly started walking backward toward the house. May couldn't see that well, considering that her eyes were still a little blurry and he was far away, but it looked like he was smiling.
She was standing in the airport of Copenhagen, staring at a doorway, trying to figure out if it was (a) a bathroom and (b) what kind of bathroom it was. The door merely said H. Was she an H? Was H "hers"? It could just as easily be "his". Or "Helicopter Room: Not a Bathroom at All
She wasn't only gay, she was a gay elf.
Nothing was quite like it was supposed to be.
She didn't even notice right away that a small animal had come out from behind a nearby car and was slowly making its way toward the trash can she was standing near. She flipped through some old files in her mind, trying to come up with what this thing might be, and after a few seconds decided that--impossible as it seemed--it was a fox.
It could have been like a fairy tale. But fairy tales aren't real. Things don't work like that. There's a price for everything.
This wasn't a position she wanted to be in. And yet . . . yet she knew that she was going to do it anyway.
I have no phobias. Phobias are irrational. My fears are rational and CAREFULLY CULTIVATED, like roses.
Go see old virgins! Now ask a strange boy out, you shy, Retarded thing!
I guess life is full of maybes.
It makes you very cool," he said, taking big, jumping steps to get in front of me. "CNN would interview you, for sure. Daughter of Flobie! But don't worry. I'll keep them back!
A pause while my mother made high-pitched sisterly devotions of gratitude.
We study there a lot because... what other choice does society give us, right? It's Starbucks or death, sometimes.
Were you playing with Stuart?" she asked. The question was loaded. I was a filthy, filthy woman, and even the five-year-old knew it.
It was fine," I said stiffly. "We played Mouse Trap." "Is that what they're calling it these days?" she asked, throwing me a terrible grin. "I have to go give Rachel a quick bath. Feel free to make yourself some cocoa or whatever you like!" She stopped short of adding "...future child-bride of my only son.
I'm done. I'm going to go to bed and read important books about theater." "It would would be easier if you just said porn," Scarlett said. "No idea what you're talking about. But knock first if you need me.
Sometimes it is worth any amount of suffering just to prevent giving your parents the opportunity to be right.
WORTH IT and perfect are different things. No one’s perfect, yet in romance, everyone becomes WORTH IT. And that’s the trick.
She's gone. Been gone for ages. They split up right after you left. That's why the grass out front started growing again." "He's got a new girlfriend?" she said quietly. "Thank god. You must be happy." "Yeah. He does. It's a relief. She's a lot nicer. But then, your average angry snake is nicer than Fiona. I'm sure she's happier wherever she is now, burning orphans or whatever she does with her time.
Money is for doing things, my love. Don't sit on it like a hen sits on an egg. It doesn't hatch. I should know. I've made enough of it.
She had always thought applying to college would be exciting. Living away from home, meeting so many new people, Learning new things, making a few poor life desicisons.
because talent alone doesn't make an artist
i miss you so much it's giving me a pain in my pancreas.
Her kung fu is that powerful.
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