Sixteen moons, Sixteen years Sixteen of your deepest fears Sixteen times you dreamed my tears Falling, Falling through the years

Even in the slippery blur of heat and arms and noise, Lena affected everything in her wake, a pull as powerful as the moon to the tides, or the planets to the sun. I was caught in her orbit, even as she pulled away from mine.

The guy thought he was Mick Jagger. I felt bad for him.

It wasn't about how she looked, which was pretty, even though she was always wearing the wrong clothes and those beat-up sneakers. It wasn't about what she said in class--usually something no one else would've thought of, and if they had, something they wouldn't have dared to say. It wasn't that she was different from all the other girls at Jackson. That was obvious. It was that she made me realize how much I was just like the rest of them, even if I wanted to pretend I wasn't.

The more I learned about the world I thought I knew and all the ones I didn't, the more everything threaded together, leading everywhere and nowhere at the same time.

I don’t think Kitchen makes this. What’s it called again?" "Jell-O Surprise." Link grinned. "What’s the surprise?" Ridley examined the red gelatin more closely. "What they put in it.

Lena made a face. She almost never wore makeup; she didn't have to. "You know, it's not like we all sign a contract with Maybelline when we turn thirteen.