I’m assuming you have a reason behind this irrational need to conform to this institution." (Eric)
Shannon A. ThompsonStichwörter: school high-school conforming
You’re kidding, right? The whole town will know where we are just by the idle on that thing.”
He feigned a look of shock. “That thing is a 1966 GTO. It has a name, okay? It’s Mack—as in ‘to mack on women.’ I rebuilt it last year, and I was told the engine makes girls hot.”
“Someone actually used those words? Is it true?”
“TBD,” he said.
“You’re goofy. Let’s ride in my Jeep. Its name is Jeep.”
Quinn chuckled. “Kavanagh has a smart mouth.
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But Quinn held the fuzzy handcuffs in his hands, looking them over closely, and he smiled. “Oh, hey, did you want to keep these for when your invisible boyfriend returns from his fake vacation?
Laura Anderson KurkStichwörter: dating high-school ya young-adult-fiction teen-fiction long-distance-relationships glass-girl henry-whitmire meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk perfect-glass quinn-o-neill
I recognized Meg’s swirly handwriting and crooked my index finger into the side of the envelope to rip it open. There was no letter. Just a picture.
A picture of Meg holding a picture of me.
The word HOME echoed through my body like a rifle shot.
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Hold still, Meg, you’re dripping blood on my car seats.”
I reached behind the passenger seat of Tennyson’s car looking for the white sheet she’d thrown in for mopping up bodily fluids. Quinn, sitting in the back seat, read my mind and handed it to me.
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” He leaned forward, pulling a corner of the sheet up to wipe off a small stream of blood on my neck. “You okay?
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Do you know how hard it is to paint kindness?” She leaned her hip against a desk in the corner of the room, still watching me. “It’s the only part of a person I really want to capture. Everything else seems to get lost in layers of deception or defensiveness. But not kindness. You can’t hide it. And people either are or they aren’t.
Laura Anderson KurkStichwörter: art kindness relationships dating artist painting high-school ya young-adult-fiction teen-fiction glass-girl meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk perfect-glass
She didn’t see me because of the reflection on the store windows, and she wouldn’t know me in this car anyway. In fact, she probably wouldn’t know me with shaggy hair and the beginnings of a beard. So I sat for a minute, watching her dusting bookshelves, either talking to herself or singing. Her feather duster had become a prop in whatever scene she had going.
She looked heart-stoppingly, breathtakingly beautiful, my Meg.
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The first thing I needed, possibly the only thing, was to kiss her and I did, for as long as I could. I let us both breathe for a minute, and I perched her on a counter so I could touch the face I’d missed so much.
I poured every bit of frustration, anger, sadness, and worry into that kiss. Meg understood and received it all, pushing her fingers into my hair and giggling against my lips. I didn’t care that anybody passing by could be watching us through the window, or that I could fall right there and sleep for a week.
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I couldn’t stop crying because it was so intimate, in that way I always thought being physical with him would feel. If someone had walked in they might have thought Henry was barely touching me. I knew the truth of it.
He was laying me open and bare to him and to God.
There wasn’t a more intimate act. I would never recover from this.
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Wait,” Quinn said. “There’s one more thing.”
I turned around and raised an eyebrow. His eyes were wary and he lacked his usual confidence.
“Go to the Winter Dance with me.
Stichwörter: love romance relationships dating high-school ya young-adult-fiction teen-fiction long-distance-relationships glass-girl henry-whitmire meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk perfect-glass quinn-o-neill school-dances
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