There is an old and very wise Native American saying: Every time you point a finger in scorn—there are three remaining fingers pointing right back at you.

I did Google him, you know." "Oh, so you GOOGLED him Oh, well, that changes everything then, doesn't it? What could I possibly worry about now that I know you've conducted such a thorough Internet search?

I love you," I whisper. "And I love you." He smiles, his lips seeking mine. "Always have. Always will.

The weird thing about saying good-bye is that it never gets easier.

Foolish Ever, don't you realize there's no longer any difference between you and your-monster? You are the monster. It's your dark side, your shadow self, and you've now joined as one.

You hurt my feelings." He shoots me a wounded look. "I wasn't aware that you had any.

Oh, so you see some chick in baggy jeans and a hoodie, and you just have to have her so bad, you decide to repeat high school, just to get her?" "Sounds about right." He laughs.