Lacey shrugged bashfully. “Do you think I’m superficial?” “Well, yeah.” I thought of myself standing outside Becca’s bedroom, hoping she’d take her shirt off. “But so am I,” I added. “So is everyone.
I can't remember, because I never knew.
People believed in an afterlife because they couldn't bear not to.
Every paper girl needs at least one string.
I fear oblivion. I fear it like the proverbial blind man who's afraid of the dark.
I don't want to hear another negative word about cheerleaders. If it weren't for cheerleaders, who would tell us when and how to be happy during athletic events? If it weren't for cheerleaders, how would America's prettiest girls get the exercise that's so vital to a healthy life?