That morning, she had found an envelope stuffed into her locker. It was from the Mercer Hotel, and held a plastic door key for their suite. "See you there tonight," Oliver had written. "Chomp! Chomp!

I know you. I know this isn't you. And even if it is, I still love you. As much as I always have. You will always be mine. I will always love you, I promised you that when you left, and it's true now.

You made a sacrifice. And heaven rewarded you.

Popularity was fickle and elusive, like trying to catch fireflies in a jar. You were either born with it or relegated to wallflower status according to your mysterious and unknowable workings of the universe.

Maybe weakness is a strength of a kind.

He kissed her, and their souls melted into each other in a melody older than time.

She could not trust herself to hope—but without hope, she realized, she had no reason to go on.