Janie’s hip buzzes again. Maybe she'll have to have her whole leg amputated, she thinks sadly. That would really suck.

And then they kiss. Slowly, gently. Because with the right person, sometimes kissing feels like healing.

Carrie doesn't seem to talk about anything with sharp edges. Maybe she's afraid they might poke her and then she'd burst.

Dreams aren't memories," he says.

She gets to school late. Bashful gives her a tardy, and won't reconsider. Janie always hated Bashful. Stupidest. Dwarf. Ever.

But then you slammed a door handle into my gut. And when a girl does that to a guy; it means she likes him.

She sits in the driveway, freezing, for thirty-six minutes. Arguing with herself. Because she thinks she's in love with him too. And there are two ways she can be a fool in love right now. She chooses the harder one. And knocks on the door.