Like we are something tiny and insignificant, like ants, to some larger, more complex species, which sort of explains all the weird random things that can happen, like hurricanes and cancer Buxbaum You know who else has? This is the entire plot of Horton Hears a Who, a classic.
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Get over yourself, Jessie. Also, how would some larger species cause cancer? The other day, some girl wore a T-shirt that said GAP across the front. For whatever reason, I seem to be her only target Buxbaum I live in Albuquerque.
Here, the Gap is in our Uptown shopping center with the rest of the high-end stores. The Gap is not cheap. I can see how that would upset Gem.
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I wish that Gem had more depth to her character instead of just being a mean girl. You know what I mean? I hope he knows I do not. How could I? Twenty-two sounds old to me. Buxbaum The book tries to be funny, but this is one of the only moments where I laughed. He actually existed at the same time as Kurt Cobain.
I told SN just this morning about this place.
If SN wants to keep his identity a secret, why would he go to the place where you work, right after you told him you work there? This made me laugh too. Jessie is portrayed as a smart student throughout the book, even though she has all these idiotic thoughts. The end of Tell Me Three Things was predictable.
Of course SN is fucking Ethan. At least in a fantasy sort of way, since she has a huge crush on him. If I had a huge crush on a boy, and some unknown boy was messaging me, I would hope that it was the boy that I had a huge crush on.
I would probably dismiss the thought as wishful thinking, but the idea would have at least entered my head. View all posts by Lit Bitch. Like Like.
You are commenting using your WordPress. We asked Julie to tell us the opening lines that got rejected before she landed on the winner. I was never in any danger of being the girl who peaked in high school.
And that was okay by me. I have no intention of reaching great heights at sixteen. Life is for later, when the world will grow bigger than whatever town I happened to be born in. I was never in danger of being prom queen or a cheerleader or whoever it is that peaks in high school these days.
It is September. Leaves are turning in other places.
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Other sixteen-year-old girls are standing in front of mirrors. If I was home, this is what I would be doing. Both too early and too late for resolutions and fresh starts.
And yet here I am, age sixteen, a junior in high school, attempting both. A new city I have never before been to. A new house filled with strangers.
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If my dad had bothered to ask, I would have said no. If karma is a real thing, then I was a serious bitch in my former life. If there is such a thing as karma, no doubt I was a serial killer in a former life. New school. New house. New life. Seven hundred and thirty-three days after my mom died, forty-five days after my dad eloped with a stranger he met on the Internet, thirty days after we then up and moved to California, and only seven days after starting as a junior at a brand-new school where I know approximately no one, an email arrives. You must be logged in to post a comment.
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