“This thought was interrupted, suddenly, by a crash from the front entrance. We all looked over just in time to see Adam bending back from the glass, rubbing his arm."Pull open," Maggie called out. As Leah rolled her eyes, she said, "He never remembers. It's so weird.”

“I missed him," she said finally.I put my hand over hers and sat down, pulling my chair closer. "I know," I said softly."You came back from Florida feeling really good, and then you find out he's such a rat bastard that he—""No," she said distractedly, interrupting me. "I missed him. All those Ensures, and nota one made contact. I have terrible aim." And then she sighed. "Even just one would have made itbetter. Somehow.”

“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.”

“She leaned back against the step, smoothing her hands over her stomach. Though she wasn't showing yet, just in the last week she'd started to look different. It wasn't something I could describe easily. It was like those stop-action films of flowers blooming that we watched in Biology. Every frame something is happening, something little that would be missed in real time - the sprout pushing, bit by bit, from the ground, the petals slowly moving outward. To the naked eye, it's just suddenly blooming, color today where there was none before. But in real time, it's always building, working to show itself, to become.”

“How did you meet him?" I asked her.She smiled. "Here, actually. During a dinner rush. He was sitting at the counter and Isabel knocked a cup of coffee in his lap.""Ouch," I said."No kidding. She was so slammed she just kept moving, so I cleaned it up and made all the apologies. He said it was okay,, no problem, and I laughed and said pretty girls get away with anything." She looked down, twisting her ring a bit so the diamond sat in the centre of her finger, "And he smiled, and looked at Isabel, and said she wasn't his type."There was a faint cheer from the stadium, and I saw a ball whiz over the far fence and out of sight."And so," she went on, "I said, "Oh really? What is your type, exactly?" and he looked up at me and said, "You.”

“It all counts,' Adam said again. 'And the bottom line is, what defines you isn't how many times you crash, but the number of times you get back on the bike. As long as it's one more, you're all good.-pg 325 Along for the Ride”

“You're wrong," I told her. "I lost that faith a long time ago."She looked at me as I said this, an expression of quiet understanding on her face. "Maybe you didn't, though," she said softly. "Lose it, I mean.""Lissa.""No, just hear me out." She looked out at the road for a second, then back at me. "Maybe, you just misplaced it, you know? It's been there. But you just haven't been looking in the right spot. Because lost means forever, it's gone. But misplaced... that means it's still around, somewhere. Just not where you thought.”