A breeze blows up, touching my cheek like a little child's kiss. It flutters a piece of paper. "Trash, out there? Must belong to one of us." We move closer, and when I reached for it, I find...... a perfect paper airplane.

the not-so-bookish librarian was half angel, half she-devil, so sayeth the rumor mill.

Do you ever dangle your toes over the precipice, dare the cliff to crumble, defy the frozen deity to suffer the sun, thaw feather and bone, take wing to fly you home?

The more I think about it, the more I believe there has to be a subtle yet satisfying method of revenge.

I am different. And I don't understand exactly how. And I don't understand just why.

Smile. Nod. Say something witty before he finds out what an incredible geek you are.

I think parents should know what their children are reading, and if they truly object, they should tell their kids why, rather than summarily removing a book from their possession.