“Last Year Clare would have a lot to say to This Year Clare if she could have peeked into the future and seen me in Kendra Kiger's house. She'd probably slap me upside the head and say some variation of "Hey, Future Clare, wtf?”
“She’d probably slap me upside the head and say some variation of 'Hey, Future Clare, wtf?”
“And Clare, always Clare.”
“Clare. Give me a reason to stay.”
“Alba, it's okay,' Clare says softly. She looks at me. 'Say the poem about lovers on the carpet.'I blank, and then I remember. I feel self-conscious reciting Rilke in front of all these people, and so I begin: 'Engel!: Es wäre ein Platz, den wir nicht wissen-''Say it in English,' Clare interrupts.'Sorry.”
“Clare wasn't worried anymore about their being mean to each other. She imagined that someday she'd be part of a friendship in which she and the friend thought so highly of each other and were so sure of this that they could say anything.”