“I knew not to give the best of myself to the worst of people.”
― Please Ignore Vera Dietz
― Please Ignore Vera Dietz
“I got to thinking—when it was too late—you have to reach out to people. To your family, too. You can't just let them sit there, you should put your hand out. If they slap it back, well you reach out again if you care enough. If you don't care enough, you forget about them, if you can.”
― Dicey's Song
― Dicey's Song
“I got something to tell you," said Keisha Blake, disguising her voice with her voice.”
― NW
― NW
“What?" asked Natalie Blake. She really was too drunk to return to chambers. Her friend Layla was smiling, a little sadly. She was looking at the tablecloth. "Nothing. You're exactly the same." Natalie was in the middle of texting Melanie to warn her she would not be in now until tomorrow morning. "Right. It's not like I have to become another person just because - " "You always wanted to make it clear you weren't like the rest of us. You're still doing it." A waiter came over to ask about dessert. Natalie Blake, though eager for dessert, felt now she could not really order one. She was struck with dread. Her heart beat madly. She had a schoolgirl's impulse to report Layla Dean nee Thompson to the waiter. Layla's being horrible to me! Layla hates me! Outside, a car passed playing "Wanna Be Startin' Something'." Layla did not look up at the waiter and after a moment he went away. She had a thick white napkin she was twisting in both hands. "Even when we used to do those songs you'd be with me but also totally not with me. Showing off. False. Fake. Signaling to the boys in the audience, or whatever." "Layla, what are you talking about?" "And you're still doing it.”
― NW
― NW
“She wanted to read things -- could not resist wanting to read things -- and reading was easily done, and relatively inexpensive. On the other hand, that she should receive any praise for such reflexive habits baffled the girl, for she knew herself to be fantastically stupid about many things. Wasn't it possible that what others mistook as intelligence might in fact be only a sort of mutation of the will? She could sit in one place longer than other children be bored for hours without complaint, and was completely devoted to filling in every last corner of the coloring books Augustus Blake sometimes brought home. She could not help her mutated will -- no more than she could help the shape of her feet or the street on which she was born. She was unable to glean real satisfaction from accidents. In the child's mind a breach now appeared: between what she believed she knew of herself, essentially, and her essence as others seemed to understand it. She began to exist for other people, and if ever asked a question to which she did not know the answer she was wont to fold her arms across her body and look upward. As if the question itself were to obvious to truly concern her.”
― NW
― NW
Forever Young Adult - Portland
— 27 members
— last activity Jun 15, 2016 11:20AM
This is the Portland, Oregon chapter of the Forever Young Adult Book Club. We meet up in person once a month to discuss a book chosen by the awesome F ...more
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