Jan Pauline

“My brother cleared his throat. "I wish she knew that I think she is the most hilarious person on Earth. And that whenever she's not home, I feel like I'm missing my partner in crime."
My throat tightened. Do not cry. Do not cry.
"I wish she knew that she's really Mom's favorite--"
I shook my head here.
"--the princess she always wanted. That Mom used to dress her up like a little doll and parade her around like Mara was her greatest achievement. I wish Mara knew that I never minded, because she's my favorite too.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

“You're the girl who called me an asshole the first time we spoke. The girl who tried to pay for lunch even after you learned I have more money than God. You're the girl who risked her ass to save a dying dog, who makes my chest ache whether you're wearing green silk or ripped jeans. You're the girl that I--" Noah stopped, then took a step closer to me. "You are my girl.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer

“This was the boy I loved. A little bit messy. A little bit ruined. A beautiful disaster. Just like me.”
― Michelle Hodkin, The Evolution of Mara Dyer

“That's what being shy feels like. Like my skin is too thin, the light too bright. Like the best place I could possibly be is in a tunnel far under the cool, dark earth. Someone asks me a question and I stare at them, empty-faced, my brain jammed up with how hard I'm trying to find something interesting to say. And in the end, all I can do is nod or shrug, because the light of their eyes looking at me, waiting for me, is just too much to take. And then it's over and there's one more person in the world who thinks I'm a complete and total waste of space.
The worst thing is the stupid hopefulness. Every new party, every new bunch of people, and I start thinking that maybe this is my chance. That I'm going to be normal this time. A new leaf. A fresh start. But then I find myself at the party, thinking, Oh, yeah. This again.
So I stand on the edge of things, crossing my fingers, praying nobody will try to look me in the eye. And the good thing is, they usually don't.”
― Carol Rifka Brunt, Tell the Wolves I'm Home