That's enough of that," Jesse said. Next thing I knew, he'd scooped me up. Only instead of carrying me to my bed and setting me down on it all romantically, you know, like guys do to girls in the movies, he just dumped me onto it, so I bounced around and would have fallen off if I hadn't grabbed the edge of the mattress. "Thanks," I said, not quite able to keep all of the sarcasm out of my voice.

You and me?” I let out a stunned bark of laughter. “There is no you and me.” “That’s what you think,” Chaz says, tugging on his coat. “And I’ll be damned if I’m going to wait around until you figure out that isn’t true.” “Fine,” I say “I’m not asking you to, am I?” “No.” Chaz is smiling… but not like he’s happy. “But you would if you had the slightest idea what was good for you.” And with that, he yanks open the door and storms through it, slamming it closed behind him with enough force to cause the windowpanes to rattle. And then he’s gone.

One of the reasons that I think I do love to write is because I did have a difficult childhood and not so great teenage years. It always helped me escape from my problems.

I wonder what it's like to live in Tinaville. I get the feeling it's very shiny there.

How is it that I'd nearly been smothered to death, and yet I could sit there and notice things like my stepbrother's abdominal muscles a few minutes later?

All I did was die,' I said. 'And then, when presented with an opportunity not to be dead any more, I took it. Anyone else would have done the same thing.

So go ahead and make your way Back from the edge of yesterday No one knows what Can't be known 'Cause when you start You're all alone But take enough steps Take enough steps Take enough steps And someday Someday you'll be home ---Heather Wells, Untitled