“...and once at Hana's house, when we stole some blackberry liqueur from her parents' liquor cabinet and drank until the ceiling started spinning overhead. Hana was laughing and giggling, but I didn't like it, didn't like the sweet sick taste in my mouth or the way my thoughts seemed to break apart like a mist in the sun.”

“I’m Hana,” Hana says. “And this is Lena.” She jabs me with an elbow. Iknow I must look like a fish, standing there with my mouth gaping open, but I’mtoo outraged to speak. He’s lying. I know he’s the one I saw yesterday, would betmy life on it.“Alex. Nice to meet you.” Alex keeps his eyes on me as he and Hana shakehands. Then he extends a hand to me. “Lena,” he says thoughtfully. “I’ve neverheard that name before.”

“Because when I read, I don't really read; I pop a beautiful sentence into my mouth and suck it like a fruit drop, or I sip it like a liqueur until the thought dissolves in me like alcohol, infusing brain and heart and coursing on through the veins to the root of each blood vessel.”

“I’m not the Hana everyone told me I would be after my cure.”

“I laughed and it almost felt good. "Is that a dig at my liquor cabinet?"Cam smiled. "That wasn't liquor, it was swill. And that wasn't a cabinet, it was a drawer.”

“My education has been so unwitting I can't quite tell which of my thoughts come from me and which from my books, but that's how I've stayed attuned to myself and the world around me for the past thirty-five years. Because when I read, I don't really read; I pop a beautiful sentence into my mouth and suck it like a fruit drop, or I sip it like a liqueur until the thought dissolves in me like alcohol, infusing brain and heart and coursing on through the veins to the root of each blood vessel.”