I was a terrible athlete and a pretty bad student. I couldn't focus. My imagination was always racing.

Loser loser, double loser, whatever, as if, get the picture. DUH!

One question:do you want to hang ten or BE a ten?"-Massie Block

One by one, drops fell from her eyes like they were on an assembly line - gather, fall, slide...gather, fall, slide...each one commemorating something she had lost. Hope. Faith. Confidence. Pride. Security. Trust. Independence. Joy. Beauty. Freedom. Innocence.

Because whipping an atlas at Jackson's head while he was flirt-touching that Frankie girl in geography would have been very satisfying. And beating him with the Eiffel Tower snowglobe while he kissed Cleo in French would have been tres cathartic. But she hadn't. Instead she'd been egg-like: a hard shell on the outside, and a runny mess on the inside.

She raced for him, propelled by the strength of a thousand regrets.

Those fruity drinks better have a lot of caffeine in them or I'll never make it through World Issues.