My mother taught me to believe in silver, to believe in things, but I think it's more important to believe in me.

But I know a lie when I hear one.

Cute" is one of those words people use when they know you're smart enough to realize "you've got so much personality" means "you're ugly.

You ready?" Evan asks, and he's looking at me, and I love his hair, I love his smile, I lo--"I Love You," I say, and as I watch his smile bloom I finally get how great those three little words are. I finally get what they really mean.

I don’t know, shifted a little or something, smoothed down–people would think of me the way they think of Dave, and everything would always be perfect. I would be perfect.

And you… do you know what you are?” “Stupid?” “Beautiful,” he says, his face turning red.

Vitamins ruined my life. Not that there was much left to ruin, but still. I know that blaming vitamins for my horrible life sounds strange. After all, vitamins are supposed to keep people healthy. Also, they're inanimate objects. But thanks to them I was stuck in the Jackson Center Mall watching my father run around in a bee costume.