young-adult-fiction

Oh my," she said as though to herself. "The rumors are true, you have been kept in the dark.

What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink. Suddenly I felt the slight weight of his body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed against my ear. "How human you are," he whispered.

My face flushed scarlet. I was a stranger in my own skin. I had ever felt this kind of anger in my life. Fort and confusion grew. Its sensation was an overwhelming concoction of hate. The only things I knew - the only things keeping me remotely calm- was the following litany.My name is Eleanora Ada Stone. I was moved from home to home for seventeen years. I am now living on this god-forsaken island in Maine. I was being kept from a world of secrets. I have abilities. I am not human. I do not know what I am.

What do you mean 'has to be?' and what are you smiling at?" I stopped contributing to this ridiculous dance. I grabbed the teapot and began to fill it with water in the sink.Suddenly I felt the slight weight go this body against my back and the corner of his mouth brushed adjacent my ear."How human you are," he whispered.

Just try it,_ he murmurs, reaching over to cover my hand gently.And I think, Whoa, that__ never happened before!Then: Is he just doing that because he thinks Wyatt is interested?And, finally, this: Who the hell cares?!

Aspirations are useless, because to aspire, is to reach. Dream, they say, but not too big. Laugh, they say, but not too loudly. Love, they say, but not too hard.

I'm not sure if you even want me around or if you just feel sorry for me. I'm not sure of anything.

They should make earplugs for people who are grieving, so we don't have to hear the stupid things people say, but I'd look like a dork in them." -Corinna

The ice cold fear I__ felt, not knowing if Wyatt was alive, pressed into the wall with other girls and surrounded by guys who were unspeakably brave, hit my body again in a wave. This was trauma__he gift that keeps on giving.

But I understood, now, that we don__ live only for ourselves. We__e connected by millions of shared experiences and dreams and nightmares, all tied together with compassion. I learned that even when we__e going through our darkest winter, spring is waiting to appear.

We all think when we__e young that we want excitement and highs and passion. To hell with ordinary.__ smiled and she chuckled. __ut when we find ourselves in these adult bodies,_ she said. __hen we wise up a little, or get slapped in the face by life, we realize we just want all things to be equal._ She put the heels of her hands together near her heart like the Yoga prayer position. __nd we want to understand them better.

It was the first time I discovered that some girls actually sneak out of the house during slumber parties and meet up with boys. I would__e never known if I hadn__ gone to the bathroom at midnight and caught Macy and Adrienne climbing through the bathroom window. They had on eyeliner, perfume, and cut-off shorts. Their only goodbye a glare that promised retribution if I didn__ keep my mouth shut.

We bumped into other silent lines of kids going in the same direction. We looked like we were much younger and our lines were headed to the cafeteria or recess or the carpool line. Or it could__e been a fire drill. Except for the stone-faced police officers weaving between us with rifles.

Every moment of our lives we make choices. Most we don__ even know we__e making, they__e so dull or routine or automatic. Some are beyond explanation__ike my mom choosing Wyatt__ memory over Dad and me.

I__ not sure about all the particulars that led to this moment. Do I believe life is a series of dots to be connected_or that no one can outrun destiny_or that all roads lead to truth and coincidence is a lie to distract us? The reason I was in this place no longer mattered. The harsh reality stared me in the face and demanded an immediate decision. Walk away and blame it on my age. Or stay and try to help a woman who had slowly become my friend over the last few weeks.

She pulls her hand away and Damian feels the sensation of falling, a somersault into a foreign abyss where a girl with eggplant hair and a hoop in her brow waits in the darkness.

It was just over a year ago. Twelve months, nine days and six hours ago, actually. But thirteen months ago everything was...perfect.

Camus and Henry waved to me from that muddy truck. They both wanted me to get over myself.So, this was me, getting over myself. And it was about time.