Perhaps it's worth saying again: One reader's discomfort should never stand in the way of another reader's survival.

Tally turned away. Five minutes was suddenly too long to stand here, eyes burning, unable to cry.

We don't always get to choose what we love.

We're not freaks, Tally. We're normal. We may not be gorgeous, but at least we're not hyped-up Barbie dolls.

Having a brain hurt so much sometimes.

Never give us what we really want. Cut the dream into pieces and scatter them like ashes. Dole out the empty promises. Package our aspirations and sell them to us, cheaply made enough to fall apart.

She smiled, turning toward Alek. "You don't know what a friend you have in Dylan.