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.
Mots clés 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.
Mots clés 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 StiefvaterMots clés 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.
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