That earns him a smack with my book bag. "Ow." He clutches his arm. "What do you have in there? Books?" A grin snakes across his face. "I like my women feisty." He adds, "I like my broken.

I've never been afraid of the dark. I'm more afraid of the day, of people. I love the night. The solitude. Well, I don't love it. I don't feel love. I hate people, so I hope when I get there it isn't crowded. I hope the light is a momentary phenomenon and the other side is completely black. And silent.

I didn't tell him. And I never told her the whole truth. What would it matter? There was nothing she could do; nothing anyone can do or will do.

...the man of my dreams is a girl.

With determination and purpose, I head into the light.

Really? It seems too good to be true. I don't trust it. I don't trust anyone.

Take it as a token. Because tomorrow when I go, I want you to believe friends are possible.