Real life is sometimes boring, rarely conclusive and boy, does the dialogue need work.

The word 'home', it seemed, once learned, was a hard one to forget.

Unfortunately, the headlights of the car were bright enough for them to see Mae's outfit quite clearly. "Oh my God," said Nick, and shut his eyes. Jamie gave a small, nervous laugh. "What?" Mae demanded. "Alan told us that we were supposed to dress as we truly are!" "And you felt that what you truly are is a Christmas tree with too much tinsel." Nick grinned. "Huh.

I-" said Nick, his voice halting. "I don't mind it as much when - when people touch me. Some people." Mae looked down, and Nick, who looked more relaxed when he'd been stabbed, slowly lifted his hand from his chest and laid it on the tumbled sheets between them, fingers half-curled into his palm. He was still regarding the ceiling with a fixed glare. "Because you trust them not to hurt you?" Mae asked tentatively. "No," Nick said, his voice harsh. "Because I'd let them hurt me.

Words felt so clumsy when she was talking about feelings and not facts.

If I beat my against this desk, maybe things will make sense," Angela murmured. "Or if I beat someone else's head against this desk...." She eyed Jared speculatively

Remember," he called. "Just be yourself, and everyone will love you!" Nick rolled his eyes and made a rude gesture, and Alan drove the car away laughing.