Cold,” he said, pressing a finger to my pale wrist. “Not cold so much as underoxygenated,” I said. “I love it when you talk medical to me,” he said. He stood, and pulled me up with him, and did not let go of my hand until we reached the stairs.

I think teenagers bring a lot of intellectual sophistication. They're wrestling with big questions. It's just that, a lot of times they do that separately from adults.

Miles, as in 'to go before I sleep'?

The dead are visible only in the terrible lidless eye of memory.

Did I help you toward a fate you didn't want, Alaska, or did I just assist in your willful self-destruction?

Cold one day, sweet the next; irresistibly flirty one moment, resistibly obnoxious the next.

Read a lot. Read broadly... Tell stories to your friends, and pay attention to when they get bored... Write a lot.