I feel like a fox in a henhouse full of Catholic girls.

Of course, when we got home, we found that Dagda had peed on my down comforter. He had also eaten part of Mom's maidenhair fern and barfed it up on the carpet. Then he had apparently worked himself into a frenzy sharpening his ting by amazingly effective claws on the armrest of my dad's favorite chair. Now he was asleep on a pillow, curled up like a fuzzy little snail. "God, he's so cute," I said, shaking my head.

Then what's the point of trying if you can't even win?" "You win in lots of different ways," Asher said. "Lots of little wins. The point of this life is not to be good all the time. It's to be as good as you can. No one is perfect. No one does it right all the time. That's not what life is.

I feel like a fox in a henhouse full of Catholic girls.

My sister thought about it for a few moments. "Well, that's boring," she said finally. "Why can't you read porn of something fun that I could borrow?" I laughed. "Maybe later.

Oh my God, can you see me? I thought I was wearing my invisibility cloak.

In fairy tales there's always one person who is made for one other, and they find each other and live happily ever after. Cal was my person. I couldn't imagine anyone more perfect. Yet what kind of sick fairy tale would it be if he was the one made exactly right for me and I wasn't right for him?