I was just teasing," I say. "I myself don't like to eat plain butter, but hey, it's a free world.

I'm sorry," he said again, and this time he took those words and owned them.

You know it’s them books what make you talk funny.

zoegirl: have u named the chicks? SnowAngel:yes, but i keep getting them mixed up. so now i call all of them "squishy." they're the collective squishy. zoegirl: *r* they squishy? SnowAngel: when you squeeze them,yes. but not in a yucky way. SnowAngel: they're growing on me, the little squishies. altho 1 of them pooped on my pillow. zoegirl: u let them on your bed? SnowAngel: they like it when i bounce them.

So as a seventh grader, no, you weren't friends with people you didn't like. But sometimes you also weren't friends with people you did like, which was complicated, and which didn't make any sense if you tried to explain it. Sometimes things just changed. That's where the sadness came in.

Curse false-hand-holding boys!

I didn't like being alone. Being alone was slightly better than having to deal with people, that's all. Or so I'd convinced myself.