Lunch." I said. "Immediately. I'm going to wither away to absolutely nothing. Then you'll be racked with guilt."
"I doubt it.
So, Grace, how's school?" I asked myself.
Dad nodded, eyes on the baby koala now struggling in the guest's arms.
"Oh, it's fine," I continued, and Dad made a mumbling noise of agreement. I added, "Nothing special, aside from the load of pandas they brought in, and the teachers abandoning us to cannibalistic savages-" I paused to see if I'd caught his attention yet, then pressed on. "The whole building caught fire, then I failed drama, and then sex, sex, sex."
Dad's eyes abruptly focused, and he turned to me and frowned. "What did you say they were teaching you in school?
Sam:"Okay, what words would you use then?" I leaned back in the seat, thinking, as Sam looked at me doubtfully. He was right to look doubtful. My head didn't work with words very well- at least not in this abstract, descriptive sort of way.
Grace:"Sensitive" I tried.
Sam translated: "Squishy"
Grace:"Creative"
Sam:"Dangerously emo"
Grace:"Thoughtful"
Sam:"Feng shui."
I laughed so hard I snorted.
Grace:"How did you get feng shui out of thoughtful?"
Sam:"You know, because in feng shui, you arrange funiture and plants and stuff in thoughtful ways.
Tags: wolves shiver grace-discribing-sam
This is sams phone" there was a long,heavy pause, and then: "oh." Another pause. "Youre the girl, arent you? The girl who was in my house?" I tried to think of what i might gain by denying it and drew a blank "yes"
do you have a name?"
do you?"
he gave a short laugh that was completely without humor but not unpleasent. "I think i might like you. Im Beck.
Afterward, Isabel drove me home and I shut myself in the study with Rilke, and I read and I wanted.
And leaving you (there arent words to untangle it)
Your life, fearful and immense and blossoming,
So that, sometimes frustrated, and sometimes
understanding
Your life is sometimes a stone in you, and then, a star
I was beginning to undertand poetry.
Tags: rilke grace-brisbane sam-roth
I tried to picture her in a class, any class, anywhere on campus, and failed miserably. I pictured her frolicking in a forest glade around some guy she'd just sacrificed to a heathen god. That image worked way better.
Maggie StiefvaterDeath smells like birthday cake.
Maggie StiefvaterTags: james
Books are more real when you read them outside.
Maggie StiefvaterIf that moment had been a real thing, it would've been a butterfly, flapping and fluttering toward the sun.
Maggie StiefvaterHope hurt more than the cold.
Maggie Stiefvater« first previous
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