“I give a little wave back because it's more mature then giving him the finger.”

“Sometimes it's good to give people something they're not expecting.”

“Issie?“After a second her voice comes out small and tired. “I'm not here.““Oh.“ I back up so I can stare at the bathroom door. No feet. “Then I should probably freak out because the toilet is talking back to me, huh? A little too many pain meds for Zara today.”

“You know, life fractures us all into little pieces. It harms us, but it's how we glue those fractures back together that make us stronger.”

“He motions to the glue brush. "Can I have some?"I start to grab it so I can pass it to him. He reaches for it at the same time. Our fingers touch, and the moment they do the fluorescent lights overhead flicker and then fizzle out.Everyone moans, even though we can all still see. There's enough light from the outside filtering in, just not enough for us to really focus on the finer details.Nick's fingers stroke mine lightly, so lightly that I'm almost not sure the touch is real. My insides flicker like the art room lights. They do not, however, fizzle. I turn my head to look him in the eye.He leans over and whispers, "It will be hard to be just your friend."The lights come back on."Just a little brownout." The art teacher smiles and holds out her arms. "Welcome to Maine, Zara. Land of a million power failures."Nick's breath touches my ear. "I heard you didn't drive to school. I'll bring you home after cross-country,okay?""Okay," I say, trying to be all calm, but what I really want to do is leap up and do a happy dance all over the art room. Nick is driving me home.”

“If you don't believe something, then don't say it. Saying it only gives it power. ~Betty White”

“I start to grab it so I can it pass it to him. He reaches for it at the same time. Our fingers touch, and the moment they do the fluorescent lights overhead flicker and then fizzle out.Everyone moans, even though we can all still see. There's enough light from outside filtering in, just not enough for us to really focus on the finer details.Nick's fingers stroke mine lightly, so lightly that I'm almost not sure the touch is real. My insides flicker like the art room lights. They do not, however, fizzle. I turn my head to look him in the eye.He leans over and whispers, "It will be hard to be just your friend.”