Don't give up on me now. I'm sorry. I guess that's an odd thing to say. Because isn't that what I'm doing? Giving up?

And it feels strange, almost sad, to walk through ther empty halls. Each step I take sounds so lonely.

Teens in the '90s had the same basic desires as they do now.

And as I stood there in the hallway―alone―trying to understand what had just happened and why, I realized the truth: I wasn't worth an explanation―not even a reaction. Not in your eyes.

Josh will begin disappearing into a future where the only place he and I remain friends is on the Internet.

When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?

As a writer, my only responsibility is to tell a compelling story.