• Chucking her under her chin, he said, “What are you doing here, honey? You’re not even old enough to know how bad life gets.” And it was then Cecilia gave orally what was to be her only form of suicide note, and a useless one at that, because she was going to live: “Obviously, Doctor,” she said, “you’ve never been a thirteen-year-old girl.”
  • Cecilia had just gotten her period, on the same day of the month as the other girls, who were all synchronized in their lunar rhythms. Those five days of each month were the worst for Mr. Lisbon, who had to dispense aspirin as though feeding the ducks and comfort crying jags that arose because a dog was killed on TV. He said the girls also displayed a dramatic womanliness during their “monthly time.” They were more languorous, descended the stairs in an actressy way, and kept saying with a wink, “Cousin Herbie’s come for a visit.” On some nights they sent him out to buy more Tampax, not just one box but four or five, and the young store clerks with their thin mustaches would smirk.
  • “What smells like fish, is fun to eat, but isn’t fish?”
      • ew gross
  • When she smiled, her mouth showed too many teeth, but at night Trip Fontaine dreamed of being bitten by each one.
  • “You’re a stone fox,” he said, and took off.
  • “Don’t let it die a virgin,” Joe Hill Conley said. He leaned into the front seat and poked one.
  • Though some of us saw Lux as a force of nature, impervious to chill, an ice goddess generated by the season itself,
may 10 2015 ∞
may 10 2015 +