Ashley

“I had it in middle school, with this girl Raya,” Vera replied. “It was kind of fucked up.” My shoulders tensed. I pushed a fry around in the dregs of my ketchup. “Why do you think that?” I asked. “Um, it was really intense, I think. Too intense. And the whole thing kind of blew up. It actually really hurt. I still think about her sometimes.” “I’m sorry,” I said. “Yeah.” Vera nodded. “Thanks. It’s a lot to promise, you know? That you’re gonna be in the same friendship for your whole life.” “We do that romantically, though,” Candace said. “I mean, that’s the basic idea, if you believe in marriage and stuff.” “Yeah, but that feels different,” Vera argued. “You go into a romantic relationship knowing it can completely combust and leave you wrecked. You basically sign up for that. I feel like friends don’t talk about that happening.”
― Haley Jakobson, Old Enough

“I didn’t admit to my mom that I had no idea how to be a part of my community, because there seemed to be a whole second step after coming out, and that was finding your people. I mean, I had cis gay male friends, I did community theater growing up, but they didn’t really feel like my community. And Nova certainly hadn’t invited me into her community, and even if she had, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to be a part of it. But that night at Candace’s felt like I had inched closer to the thing that I wanted. They were just. So. Gay. Effortlessly so. Each with their own iconic style and vibe and fluent in a language that made my head spin. But unlike Nova’s elitist group of self-proclaimed Celesbians, I felt welcome here. Wanted. It was thrilling, and terrifying. It had been four months since that queer hang, and I finally looked forward to having weekend plans. Candace invited me everywhere, like Gay Bowling Tuesdays at the alley in town, and queer book club, and she binged all of Atypical with me in two nights. But even though we were close, there was still something that made me feel distant from everyone else. Like if I got too close, something terrible would happen.”
― Haley Jakobson, Old Enough

“Vera,” I whispered. “I don’t think I respect men.”
― Haley Jakobson, Old Enough

“a kind of “I’m-married-to-myself” fuck-you to the patriarchy. I hated that word now, “patriarchy.” All I could think of were overpriced graphic tees and white liberal mothers on Facebook updating their status to “WE’RE STILL WITH HER” and “PANTSUIT NATION!”
― Haley Jakobson, Old Enough