All of these teeth had once been in real, live people. They had talked and smiled and eaten and sang and cursed and prayed. They had brushed and flossed and died. In English class, we read poems about death, but here, right in front of me was a poem about death too.
Gabrielle ZevinStichwörter: poetry death evidence teeth
Owen begins to cry in an undignified manner, although he isn't entirely sure why he is crying. Curtis takes Owen's hand, leading Owen away from the puddle.
"You know," says Curtis, "you may see her again someday."
"Cool," says Owen, and with that, he stops crying.
Owen doesn't watch when they place Liz in the River, next to all the other babies who would be born that day. Nor does he watch when the launch nurse pushes Liz away from the shore into the current that leads back to Earth. To the untrained observer, it seems as if Liz's departure has no effect on Owen whatsoever.
Curtis Jest watches Owen before deciding to go over to him.
"Owen," Curtis asks, "do you remember who that was?"
Owen looks up from playing with the boat. He appears to find Curtis's question difficult. "Lizzie?"
"Yes," says Curtis, "that was Lizzie. She was my friend. She was your...your friend, too."
Owen continues playing with the boat. He begins singing Liz's name in the unaffected way children will sometimes sing a name. "Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie," he sings. Owen stops singing abruptly and looks up at Curtis. A horrified expression crosses Owen's face. "Is she...gone?"
"Yes," says Curtis.
Owen nods. "Gonegonegonegonegone." Owen begins to cry in an undignified manner, although he isn't entirely sure why he is crying. Curtis takes Owen's hand, leading Owen away from the puddle.
"You know," says Curtis, "you may see her again someday."
"Cool," says Owen, and with that, he stops crying.
Well, for one, you have to remember not to scream. Once you have their attention, whispering is much more effective. Screaming ghosts scare people, you know
Gabrielle ZevinStichwörter: owen gabrielle-zevin elsewhere
She hasn't cried once. SHe doesn't understand that Margaret is dead. At that age, they can't fully understand the concept of death. It's a good thing really.
Jane fully understood the concept of death and she felt truly injured that Aunt Bess considered her unmoved. Jane thought it should be perfectly clear to everyone that rearranging the furniture in her dollhouse was her expression of grief. She had been moving the Mother Doll (it was a nuclear family of dolls that consisted of a mother, a father, a boy, and a girl) and all the Mother Doll's possessions into the dollhouse's attic. Jane wondered why tears were considered a superior form of grief to the rearrangement of one's dollhouse.
Feeling terribly misunderstood, Jane began to cry.
Oh listen, said Aunt Bess, she begins to understand.
An echo makes good company, Old Margaret said. Whenever I'm lonely, I always try to find one to talk to. They're much better than mirrors. Mirrors say nasty things about you. Echoes are far more supportive. They think whatever you say is completely brilliant.
Gabrielle ZevinI don't think I would have minded you being the keeper of my secrets.
Gabrielle ZevinWhy are the cute ones always such sociopaths?"
"Win doesn't seem like so much of a sociopath," I replied without thinking.
"Oh, really? So, you think he's cute, do you? At least you're admitting it now."
I shook my head. Scarlet was incorrigible.
"Admitting it is the first step, Annie.
Chocolate doesn't solve everything, Nana."
"It solves a whole heck of a lot, though.
Why'd you give him all that stuff after he tried to rob me?"
"Because he was less fortunate than us, Natty. And Daddy always said that we have to be mindful of those who are less fortunate."
"But Daddy killed people, didn't he?"
"Yes," I admitted. "Daddy was complex.
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