I try to shake it loose-but these ideas, they cling. It's like I'm shackled to them with an iron chain. They rattle along behind me, dragging against the ground, always reminding me of their presence.

A pause while my mother made high-pitched sisterly devotions of gratitude.

This kind of thing always amazed Ginny--people who just walked away from institutions. People who left school when they didn't see the point. Aunt Peg had done that. Ginny knew she never would. That either made her someone who worked hard and finished things, or someone who didn't have the guts to break away from the pack. Maybe both.

Braiiinnnnssss," we said in unison. "It's both sad and incredibly impressive that you were all ready with that one.

Go see old virgins! Now ask a strange boy out, you shy, Retarded thing!

Guilt isn't always a rational thing, Clio realized. Guilt is a weight that will crush you whether you deserve it or not.

I'm the last of the mad ones.