I am seventeen. The good things about seventeen is that you’re not sixteen. Sixteen goes with the word sweet, and I am so far from sweet.

Francine Pascal

Mots clés age sixteen sweet teens seventeen sweet-sixteen



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As pathetic as it was, she'd rather hold on to the possibility of something perfect than be hit with the reality of nothing much.

Francine Pascal

Mots clés possibility perfect nothing pathetic



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Pretty people do ugly things.
It was one of those laws of nature that Gaia had understood for years. If she ever started to forget that ride for a second, there always seemed to be some good-looking asshole ready to remind her.

Francine Pascal

Mots clés assholes good-looking pretty-people



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Ella's supersonic voice followed her all the way to Bleecker Street and then dissolved amid the noisy profusion of shops, cafes, and restaurants and the crush of people that made the West Village of Manhattan unique in the world. In a single block you could buy fertility statues from Tanzania, rare Amazonian orchids, a pawned brass tuba, Krispy Kreme doughnuts, or the best, most expensive cup of coffee you ever tasted. It was the doughnuts, incidentally, that attracted Gaia.

Francine Pascal

Mots clés new-york shops doughnuts manhattan city-life noisy



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What sucked was that her room was on the fourth floor of a four-story house because she hated walking past every other room on her way in and out. She was like a latter-day Rapunzel except her hair was only a few inches below her shoulders, slightly fried, not all that blond, and furthermore, who the hell was ever going to climb up to give her a hand? The guy in the wheelchair from school?

What she — and Rapunzel, frankly — needed was a decent ladder.

Francine Pascal

Mots clés rooms ladder rapunzel blonde-hair



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She needed to get out of there. Her brains, thankfully, were still safely in her skull, but her emotions were splattered on the pavement.

Francine Pascal

Mots clés emotions brains pavement splattered



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