It feels like the city is telling secrets down here, privy only to those who think to listen.

In that twisted incestuous way of fate, Mia's a part of our history, and we're among the shards of her legacy.

What is the real question is not whether to be, but how to be?

And this is the truth. Because I may be only eighteen, but it already seems pretty obvious that the world is divided into two groups: the doers and the watchers. The people things happen to and the rest of us, who just sort of plod on with things. The Lulus and the Allysons. It never occurred to me that by pretending to be Lulu, I might slip into that other column, even for just a day.

...the world feels so big when you're out in the wide open. It's like you don't have a place in it when you don't have a home." "Your place is right here," I whispered, laying down and hugging her close.

It's quiet now. So quiet that can almost hear other people's dreams.

But my hand has been clenched into a fist for three years now; it's frozen shut.