Because the truth sometimes hurts," I said. Yeah," he said. "So do lies, though.

I jammed my hand in my jacket pocket, bracing myself fo the next hit, and fel something. Something grainy and samll, sticking to the tips of my fingers: the sand from Commons Park. Oh Cass, I thought. I miss you so, so much.

That was the nice thing about the Spot: you could hear everything, but no one could see you.

I write thank-you notes the minute I throw the wrapping paper away.

Home wasn't a set house, or a single town on a map. It was wherever the people who loved you were, whenever you were together. Not a place, but a moment, and then another, building on each other like bricks to create a solid shelter that you take with you for your entire life, wherever you may go.

It's a funny feeling, being suddenly airborne. Just as you realize it, it's over, and you're sinking.

Sometimes, you get things right the first time. Others, the second. But the third time, they say, is the charm.