To keep up appearances, I stomp my room and slam the door.

Hannah was about to burst with excitement, which would have been disgusting because she would have sprayed blood, guts and glitter in every direction.

There is no magic cure, no making it all go away forever. There are only small steps upward; an easier day, an unexpected laugh, a mirror that doesn't matter anymore.

We turned us into wintergirls, and when she tried to leave, I pulled her back into the snow because I was afraid to be alone.

Rumors are spread by jealous people

You’re not dead, but you’re not alive, either. You’re a wintergirl.

Too much sun after a Syracuse winter does strange things to your head, makes you feel strong, even if you aren't.