The best time to talk to ghosts is just before the sun comes up.

be aggressive, BE-BE Aggressive! B-E A-G-G-R-E-S-S-I-V-E

The stars whirled above us and the firecrackers blazed. The moon stood watch as drops of blood fell, careless seeds that sizzled in the snow.

I knew how much it hurt to be the daughter of people who can't see you, not even if you are standing in front of them stomping your feet.

Melancholy held me hostage, and the bees built a hive of sadness in my soul.

If I run or breathe too deep, the cheap stitches holding me together will snap, and all the stickiness inside will pour out and burn through the concrete.

I stand in the center aisle of the auditorium, a wounded zebra in a National Geographic special, looking for someone, anyone to sit next to. A predator approaches: gray jock buzz cut, whistle around a neck thicker than his head. Probably a social studies teacher, hired to coach a blood sport.