I'm sorry, Heather, but everything was not just fine before I got here. You know how I know that? Because you're dead. Okay? You are dead. Dead people don't have lockers, or best friends, or boyfriends. You know why? Because they're dead.-Suze Simon

Susannah." My dance partner's breath was soft against my cheek. "Susannah...." Yeah. In my dreams. In real life, the voice calling my name wasn't a bit masculine. That's because it belonged to a twelve-year-old boy.

Smiles like that should be against the law. Considering what they do to a girl.

You didn't," John said, stepping from the shadows as he clapped for me, "even hit your head this time.

I lay there in my black slip dress and wondered if I ought to have worn pants. I mean, who knew what I was going to find up there? What if I had to do some climbing? People might see my underwear.

And that whole do-able/undo-able thing? Yeah. Need I point out that neither Ruth nor I have ever "done" anybody in our lives?

If you really love someone, even if you can't see where you'll be or what you'll be doing twenty years from now, you'd still want that person to be there.