“Whatcha doin', Freak Girl?" ---------------------------"What does it look like, brainiac?" I shot back, even surprising myself with the force of my jab. "I'll give you three guesses. No, wait. Don't strain yourself. Wouldn't want to hurt your head." I waved a flyer in his face, channeling my inner mean girl. "See these? I'm hanging them...on a...wall!" I spoke the last part slowly, as if addressing a dim-witted child. Which wasn't far off the mark, now that I thought about it. "With tape," I added, waving at the dispenser. "You know-sticky, sticky!”

“Lea, I want to lick him up like a freaking cherry ice pop, let him melt in my mouth, get all sticky and lick my fingers clean. But so does every other girl he meets. And I'm like the last girl in line, a line that freaking wraps around the corner.”

“Some people wouldn't see a traitor when they looked at me. Some people would see a survivor. Call me anything you like—I sleep fine at night. But you will look at me when you say it. Or I'll get so far in your face you'll be seeing me with your eyes closed. You'll be seeing me in your nightmares. I'll scorch myself on the backs of your eyelids. Get off my back and stay off it. I'm not the woman I used to be. If you want a war with me, you'll get one. Just try me. Give me an excuse to go play in that dark place inside my head.”

“It's only now, looking back, that I see how you patched through my walls, and entered my life, in waves.”

“My words hang in the air. I look to the screen, hoping to see them recording some wave of reconciliation going through the crowd. Instead I watch myself get shot on television.”

“The girl in me wanted to slap Lung across his face and yell, "Get your eyes off my sticky buns, ya creep!”