“She smiled, pulling the photo a little closer, and I wondered if I should ask her, too, the question for my project, get her definition. But as she ran a finger slowly across the faces, identifying each one, it occurred to me that maybe this was her answer. All those names, strung together like beads on a chain. Coming together, splitting apart, but still and always, a family. (page 289) ~Ruby”

“On my way to the living room, where my family was gathered, I stopped to look at the photo in the foyer. As always, my eyes were drawn to my own face first, then those of my sisters, and finally my mother, looking so small between us. But I saw it differently now.When that picture was taken, we were all gathered around my mother, sheltering her. But that was just one day, one shot. In the time since, we had arranged and rearranged ourselves so many times. We’d all gathered around Whitney, even when she didn’t want us to, and Kirsten and I had gotten closer when she pushed us both away. We were still in flux, as had been clear at the table that night as I watched my mother and sisters come together again. Then, I’d been convinced I was on the outside, but really, I’d always been within arm’s reach. All I had to do was ask, and I, too, would be easily brought back, surrounded and immersed, finding myself safe, somewhere in between.”

“closed my eyes and listened. It was like music I'd heard all my life, even more than "This Lullaby." All those keystrokes, all those letters, so many words. I brushed my fingers over the beads and watched as her image rippled, like it was on water, breaking apart gently and shimmering before becoming whole again.”

“So look," he began, leaning over the desk, "I was—""Excuse me?" Bethany said. Her voice was loud, even.Wes turned and looked at her. As he did so, I watched his profile, his arm, that little bit of the heart inhand peeking out from his sleeve."We can help you over here," Bethany said to him. "Did you have a question?""Um, sort of," Wes said, glancing at me, a mild smile on his face. "But—""I can answer it," Bethany said solidly, so confidently. Amanda, beside her, nodded, seconding this."Really, it's fine," he said, then looked at me again. He raised his eyebrows, and I just shrugged. "Okay,so—""She's only a trainee, she won't know the answer," Bethany told him, pushing her chair over closer towhere he was, her voice too loud, bossy even. "It's better if you ask me. Or ask us."Then, and only then, did I see the tiniest flicker of annoyance on Wes's face. "You know," Wes said, "Ithink she'll know it.""She won't. Ask me."Now it wasn't just a flicker. Wes looked at me, narrowing his eyes, and for a second I just stared back.Whatever happens, I thought, happens. For the first time, time at the info desk was flying."Okay," he said slowly, moving down the counter. He leaned on his elbows, closer to Bethany, and shesat up even straighter, readying herself, like someone onJeopardy awaiting the Daily Double. "So here'smy question."Amanda picked up a pen, as if there might be a written portion."Last night," Wes said, his voice serious, "when the supplies were being packed up, what happened tothe big tongs?"The sick part was that Bethany, for a second, looked as if she was actually flipping through her mentalRolodex for the answer. I watched her swallow, then purse her lips. "Well," she said. But that was all.I could feel myself smiling. A real smile.Wes looked at Amanda. "Do you know?"Amanda shook her head slowly."All right," he said, turning back to look at me. "Better ask the trainee, then. Macy?"I could feel Amanda and Bethany looking at me. "They're in the bottom of that cart with the brokenback wheel, under the aprons," I said. "There wasn't room for them with the other serving stuff.”

“But she wouldn't. I knew that already. My mother and I had an understanding: we worked together to be as much in control of our shared world as possible. I was suposed to be her other half, carrying my share of the weight. In the last few weeks, I'd tried to shed it, and doing so sent everything off kilter. So of course she would pull me tighter, keeping me in my place, because doing so meant she would always be sure, somehow, of her own.”

“He handed me a bandana. "Tie that on.""Why?" I said, but I did it anyway. "Norman, you are way too into ceremony.""It's important." I could hear him moving around, adjusting things, before he came to sit beside me. "Okay," he said. "Take a look."I pulled off the blindfold. Beside me, Norman watched me see myself for the first time.And it was me. At least, it was a girl who looked like me. She was sitting on the back stoop of the restaurant, legs crossed and dangling down. She had her head slightly tilted, as if she had been asked something and was waiting for the right moment to respond, smiling slightly behind the sunglasses that were perched on her nose, barely reflecting part of a blue sky.The girl was something else, though. Something I hadn't expected. She was beautiful.Not in the cookie-cutter way of all the faces encircling Isabel's mirror. And not in the easy, almost effortless style of a girl like Caroline Dawes. This girl who stared back at me, with her lip ring and her half smile - not quite earned - knew she wasn't like the others. She knew the secret. And she'd clicked her heels three times to find her way home."Oh, my God," I said to Norman, reaching forward to touch the painting, which still didn't seem real. My own face, bumpy and textured beneath my fingers, stared back at me. "Is this how you see me?""Colie." He was right beside me. "That's how you are.”

“There were so many times during those years, though, as we moved from one house to another, that I would find myself thinking about my sister. Usually it was late at night, when I couldn‟t sleep, and I‟d try to picture her in her dorm room forty-odd miles and a world away. I wondered if she was happy, what it was like out there. And if maybe, just maybe, she ever thought of me.”