He was looking at me, jsut as I'd thought he would be, but like Bert's, his light was not what I expected. No pity, no sadness: nothing had changed. I realized all the times I'd felt people stare at me, their faces had been pictures, abstracts. None of them were mirrors, able to reflect back the expression I thought one I wore, the feelings only I felt.
Sarah DessenIt's hard to do," I said. Wes looked at me. "What is?" I swallowed, not sure why I'd said this out loud. "Get it right.
Sarah DessenYou know, when you think about it, thatโs kind of a weird thing. I mean itโs meant to be sympathetic, right? But itโs kind of not. Like youโre telling the person thereโs nothing unique about what theyโre saying I considered this as a couple of kids on Rollerblades whizzed past, hockey sticks over their shoulders. โYeah,โ I said, finally, โbut you could also look at it the other way. Like no matter how bad things are for you, I can still relate.
Sarah Dessen