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394 pages, Hardcover
First published July 26, 2011
“I didn’t say anything,” Ash said.First, the good, because I'm a positive person. The main character in this book is a Polynesian girl. A person of color. A very rare thing to happen within an YA novel.
“Maybe not with your mouth, but your eyes just called me a slut.”
Ash raised her hand and touched the skin over her cheek, at once painfully self-conscious of how her skin, the hue of earthen clay, clashed against the backdrop of her predominantly white school. She spent the better part of each day feeling like a grizzly in the polar bear cage.Ash really has anger management issues. She explodes in a heartbeat. She beats people up if they piss her off, boys and girls alike.
Ash ripped her alarm clock from its socket and hurled it across the room. It struck the door frame right by his face, the plastic shattering on impact. Even in her unbridled rage she could enjoy the look of terror on his face as he covered his head and shrank back.And - oh, the hypocrisy - she has the nerve to complain when faced with her (horrifyingly) more violent older sister.
Ash had tears in her eyes. “Why do you always do this?” she whispered. “You couldn’t have just come back to see me. You had to make it about destruction. It’s always about destroying something.”Oh, honey. "It's always about destroying something?" You could be describing yourself.
Rich Lesley, despite all his visible egocentricity, had served as a much-needed bandage, bringing with him an entourage of substitute friends in the form of his fellow tennis players and their plus-ones. But now the bandage had been ripped off with a single flick of the wrist—or, in this case, Lizzie Jacobs’s tongue—and the wound of loneliness had sprung open anew.Calling her a slut, etc.
Ash smiled acidly. “I figured I’d tag you, so that animal control would know that there’s a bitch on the loose.”Cheating is a two-way street. And if the girls in this book are all unpleasant, the guys aren't exactly winners either.
“With all the guys who come in and out of the revolving door to your Volvo’s backseat, you had to get your paws on Rich, too?” Ash asked.
“Well, I’ll give it two days before she figures out the truth. That you’re a superman on the streets . . .” She paused provocatively. “And a dud in the sheets.”
Rolfe inhaled a sharp breath, and Ashline’s whole body constricted as she prepared to intervene. But then Rolfe let his breath out slowly. “Better a dud in the sheets,” he said coolly, “than a bitch who never had a chance.”







