The thing is, you don't get to know. It's not like you wake up with a bad feeling in your stomach. You don't see shadows where there shouldn't be any. You don't remember to tell your parents you love them or--in my case--remember to say good-bye to them at all.

Love: It will kill you and save you, both

Alex loved books. He was the one who first introduced me to poetry. That's another reason I can't read anymore.

It's funny how you can know your friends so well, but you still end up playing the same games with them.

That is the rule of the Wilds: You must be bigger and stronger and tougher. You must hurt or be hurt.

There is so much fragility in kissing, in other people: It is all glass.

For a second we just stand there in silence. Then, suddenly, Alex is back, easy and smiling again. “I left a note for you one time. In the Governor’s fist, you know?” I left a note for you one time. It’s impossible, too crazy to think about, and I hear myself repeating, “You left a note for me?” “I’m pretty sure it said something stupid. Just hi, and a smiley face, and my name. But then you stopped coming.” He shrugs. “It’s probably still there. The note, I mean. Probably just a bit of paper pulp by now.