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231 pages, Kindle Edition
First published May 1, 2012
"My mind is not a very forgiving place."

“My mind is not a very forgiving place.”
“I feel like a dull and worn-out version of myself, and for some reason I just can’t bridge the gap between who I used to be and the sad sack that’s sitting here now. I don’t know how to reach through it.”
“And that was that. Amanda had noticed something wrong, and I had my warning – and I didn’t heed it. I had proof then that the weirdness wasn’t just in my head. I knew for sure that I needed to stop talking to Ethan so much.
But I didn’t. It was like I couldn’t help it.”
Dear Amanda,
How can you just forget the entire history of our friendship? Doesn’t being best friends for over half our lives mean anything?
“I wasn’t always such a downer. Up until, like, two weeks ago, I was Clementine Williams, happy and upbeat and kind of hilarious, if I do say so myself. But that was before everything exploded in my face.
Now I’m Clementine Williams, outcast. And that’s on a good day.”
“The redheaded guy was about my age, I think. He didn’t look at me like I was a total bitch or some kind of horrible human being. Neither did George or Ruth. They seemed to like me. So did Mrs. Ficklewhiskers, the pirate cat. And I get that that’s because they don’t know me or what went on with me last year or anything. But still. They all treated me like I had a blank slate. Like I was just plain Clem, a girl with a pretty laugh and a nice walk.
But I guess if they knew me, they’d hate me too.”
“We both lean down to pick up the bananas, and – boom! – our foreheads collide.
“Damn!” he says as we stand up. He’s holding his head, one eye shut, the other cocked at me, with a big grin on his face.
Then he puts his hands out in front of him, the basket dangling on one arm.
“Okay, back away,” he says.
“Huh?” I ask.
“You’re obviously an assassin sent to kill me by collision,” he says.
“When he smiles at me, I feel like I’m sitting under a heat lamp. I live for the times when his fingers brush my leg at lunch, or when we pass in the hallways and he raises his eyebrows at me, like we have a secret. I should feel bad – and I do, most of the time – but how can I stop thinking about him when seeing his face makes me feel so alive?”
“Dear Amanda,
I didn’t realize that, sometimes, even if a situation is getting out of control, it happens slowly, in these really small moments. And even if what’s happening is wrong, it can feel like it’s right.
I got so wrapped up in the fact that something was happening. Someone was into me. I didn’t have to be boring old Clem all the time. I had a secret.”
“I’d thought of all the excuses that might have made my friends cut me some slack, but none of them were real. The truth was that I liked Ethan, and he liked me. We clicked. That’s it.
It’s a paper-thin reason to start something with your best friend’s boyfriend, and I knew it.”




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