Holding Eleanor's hand was like holding a butterfly. Or a heartbeat. Like holding something complete, and completely alive.

If you don't want people to look at you, Park had thought at the time, don't wear fishing lures in your hair. Her jewelry box must look like a junk drawer.

We're going to listen music in my room.' 'Fine,' his dad said from underneath the sink. 'Just don't get anybody pregnant.

It was the best kind of November day. Cold and crisp, but not quite freezing, not icy. Just cold enough that she could justifiably wear all her favorite clothes—cardigans and tights and leg warmers.

A landline is an anchor - busy signals, long distance bills, missed connections and all.

Underneath this veneer of slightly crazy and mildly socially retarded, I'm a complete disaster.

You look so blindingly cute right now, I feel like I need to make a pinhole in a piece of paper just to look at you.