For a second, I stared at the map of her veins just under the surface of her thin skin. It was like her body was trying to become diaphanous. Instead of getting harder and stronger and full of life as we age, we disappear slowly. Our skin thins and evaporates. Our nails barely coat our fingertips. Our hair falls out. We are never more see-through.
Laura Anderson KurkTag: art love romance responsibility dating artist illness aging volunteerism ya young-adult-fiction teen-fiction long-distance-relationships glass-girl henry-whitmire meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk perfect-glass quinn-o-neill college-application caretaker elderly-women
Her problem is with pretty,” Tennyson said. "She thinks I’ll need all these dresses in college. Like I would ever in a billion years pledge a sorority. I’ll pack a few of these to be ironic, though. I can wear them to, like, truck stops at night with mascara running down my cheeks and stuff.
Laura Anderson KurkTag: love beauty romance college high-school pretty ya tennyson dresses graduation young-adult-fiction sorority teen-fiction glass-girl laura-anderson-kurk perfect-glass college-application truck-stops
I’d stumbled upon the inner sanctuary of a woman who loved the world. Loved the faces of people she saw. Loved the way a hand looked when it was relaxed. Loved the way a woman looked when she touched her own face. The way a man looked when he opened himself to her. Loved the way wind changed a tree or a field or a child’s hair. The beauty of a neck meeting a shoulder. The softness of a smile that wasn’t forced.
Laura Anderson KurkTag: art love romance creativity dating artist volunteerism painting high-school ya young-adult-fiction teen-fiction glass-girl henry-whitmire meg-kavanagh laura-anderson-kurk teen-books perfect-glass jo-russell college-application
Jo told me once that she was an old woman everywhere but in her studio. “There I’m only myself,” she’d said. Standing in the middle of masterpieces that only Jo had ever seen and touched, I knew what she meant.
Laura Anderson KurkTag: art love romance creativity dating artist relationship painting ya young-adult-fiction teen-fiction glass-girl laura-anderson-kurk teen-books perfect-glass jo-russell art-studio
Look at this one.” I picked up a small painting of a man with dark hair and a short, dark beard. He wore a loose shirt, cobalt blue, unbuttoned at the top, showing a prominent, knobby collarbone. He looked…complicated and hungry. She’d captured him focused intensely on a book, his face pressed against a wall like he was resting. Or waiting.
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I’d felt this before, when my granddad was in the hospital before he died. We all camped out in the waiting room, eating our meals together, most of us sleeping in the chairs every night. Family from far-flung places would arrive at odd hours and we’d all stand and stretch, hug, get reacquainted, and pass the babies around.
A faint, pale stream of beauty and joy flowed through the heavy sludge of fear and grief. It was kind of like those puddles of oil you see in parking lots that look ugly until the sun hits them and you see rainbows pulling together in the middle of the mess.
And wasn’t that just how life usually felt—a confusing swirl of ugly and rainbow?
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I reached down and picked up a baseball bat at my feet and I flung it as hard as it could. It circled and arced high in the air until it slammed against the side of the dining hall with a crack and fell.
I sat down in the dirt. Then I lay down in the dirt.
Because not only was there no trail to follow, there was no evidence he’d ever been here.
There was no evidence any of them had been here.
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You look incredible, Kavanagh,” Quinn whispered close to my ear. “Are you trying to kill me?”
“Ssshhh,” I hissed. “They’re going to hear you.”
“I can’t tell my date she’s beautiful?”
I turned my head. “No. No, you can’t.
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Thanet is having a moment,” I said, leaning forward so Quinn could see him.
“What’s wrong, man?” Quinn said. “Were you not aware high school dances suck? That they always have sucked and they will continue sucking as long as the world turns?
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My dad used to say, ‘This is what your right arm’s for, son,’” John said. “This is the time and these are the people and I’d give my right arm to be a light, a comfort, to them. I know you would, too. In whatever form it takes. Use these materials and make something great. Do it on faith, knowing you probably won’t be around to see how the story ends.
Laura Anderson KurkTag: love romance dating sacrifice dedication volunteerism high-school ya young-adult-fiction orphanage teen-fiction long-distance-relationships wyoming glass-girl laura-anderson-kurk teen-books perfect-glass nicaragua
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