Sometimes when we forget to do things for others, it's because we're too wrapped up in our own problems.

hi, puppy." she's not a puppy. She's a girl," Nancy's mother says. Nancy pats me and says, "Good puppy. Nice puppy." When he mother bends down to pull her away, she wraps both arms around my legs and wails. "No! My puppy!

I'm a southern girl, and I grew up with this slightly schizophrenic upbringing where I bounced back and forth between Atlanta, Georgia, and a tiny mountain town called Brevard, North Carolina. My parents were divorced, and my two lives were very different because of socioeconomic reasons.

You have to be nicer to me," I said. Again he laughed. "What? I'm the King of nice. What are you talking about?" "You have to be nicer to me or... or..." "Or what?" he said. Still Lars, still charming and jokey, but with a thread of fear. It snaked in and pierced my numbness and almost broke my resolve. Almost, but not quite. "Or I have ti break up with you." I whispered What was there more to say? Nothing. So I hung up.

There's something strange about this big pink bunny.

Is he a sophomore?" Lydia says. "Please tell me he's in our grade." "I don't know," I say. "But weren't you there when he came to the office?" Peyton says. "The secretary didn't get out her bullhorn and announce what grade he's in. She just took him to meet Headmaster Perkins.

I think that ties in with issues of identity as well - that sometimes there are parts of us we want to hide, and then there's other times we say, "You know what? Nope. Done hiding that part."