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Ever felt as if your life is just going round in circles? Sarah Dessen's thought-provoking short story about moving on will resonate with teens everywhere.
A Pocket Money Puffin for young adults by New York Times #1 author
parking lot, barefoot, alone. So I pulled the towel off the chair, folding it over my own. ‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Okay.’ Still, when we got to the Daughtrys’ old house, I was relieved to see all the windows were dark and there was no car in the driveway, so we could just leave the girl’s stuff and be done with it. But, as Clarke bent down to stick the bag against the front door, it opened, and there she was. She had on cutoff shorts and a red T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. No
wondered what they were smiling and talking about in those last few minutes of the broadcast as the credits rolled. Charlie Baker and Tess Phillips shuffled important-looking papers, worn thin from a hard day of news chasing and news delivering, but my father and the Weather Pet were always off to the side sharing some secret laugh that the rest of us weren’t in on. And when we finally did catch on it wasn’t very funny after all. Not that I didn’t like Lorna Queen. She was nice enough for
after high-school graduation two years earlier and someone double dared her. Ashley was wild, but that was before she got engaged. ‘No. I don’t think I should go,’ my mother said. ‘I think it’s in bad taste.’ ‘Go where?’ I said. ‘She invited you,’ Ashley said, yawning. ‘She wouldn’t have done that if she didn’t want you there.’ ‘Where?’ I said again, but of course no one was listening to me. There was another crash as a block of ice fell out of the freezer. ‘I’m not going,’ my mother said
through with anything, as if from sixteen on I was doomed to be ruled by indecision. ‘I just don’t understand why you don’t want to,’ he asked me one night as we sat looking at the water, him now leaning against his door, as far away from me as possible, as if the fact that I didn’t want him made it necessary to put the maximum amount of distance between us. There was no grey here, no compromise. We’d come up so quickly on all or nothing that it blindsided me, a mere glint out of the corner of
Anthony was gone, lost in the crowd of sticky wrappers and screaming children and all the voices of the game workers, their coaxing and wheedling like a swarm of bees hovering. When I finally got to my car, it seemed like everyone was leaving at once, a long snaky trail of brake lights leading out to the main road. I pulled up behind a pickup truck and then sat there, moving forward in tiny increments, watching the traffic light up ahead drop from red to green, then climb to red again. Even