There is something about Christmas that requires a rug rat. Little kids make Christmas fun. I wonder if could rent one for the holidays.
There is no safer. There’s not even safe, never has been.
The stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking/stuffing/puking didn't make her skinny, it made her cry.
The stars folded themselves away as the sun peeked above the horizon and cracked open the sky and I kissed him and we laughed and it was good.
The room does not smell like apple. It smells like frog juice, a cross between a nursing home and potato salad. The Back Row pays attention. Cutting dead frogs is cool.
The officer kicked the stool away. This time the rope did not break.
The light beyond my eyes flashflashflashes with a hundred futures for me. Doctor. Ship's captain. Forest ranger. Librarian. Beloved of that man or that women or those children or those people who vote...
The girl reflected back from the window in front of me has poinsettias growing out of her belly and head. She's the shape of a breakfast-link sausage standing on broomstick legs, her arms made from tw...
The dead do walk and haunt and crawl into your bed at night. Ghosts sneak into your head when you're not looking. Stars line up and volcanoes birth out bits of glass that foretell the future. Poison b...
The best time to talk to ghosts is just before the sun comes up. That's when they can hear us true.
Some stand-up comic cracks, 'No, Melinda no es linda.' They call me Me-no-linda for the rest of the period. This is how terrorists get started, this harmless fun.
She even tried to teach us the difference between active voice—I snarfed the Oreos—and passive voice—The Oreos got snarfed.
Sarah wrote to the president himself, Zachary Taylor. He refused. Did that stop Sarah? No! She waited for the next election and wrote to the new president, Millard Fillmore. He said no, too.Did that s...
Sarah Hale was every inch a superhero. Not only did she fight for Thanksgiving, she fought for playgrounds for kids, schools for girls, and historical monuments for everyone.She argued against spankin...
Picasso. He whispers like a priest. Picasso. Who saw the truth. Who painted the truth, molded it, ripped from the earth with two angry hands.
One of the seeds has split its shell and reaches a white hand upward. An apple tree growing from an apple seed growing in an apple. I show the little plantseed to Ms. Keen. She gives me extra credit....
Odysseus had twenty years to shed his battle skin. My grandfather left the battle field in France and rode home in a ship that crawled across the ocean slowly so he could catch his breath. I get on a...
Nothing good ever happens at lunch. The cafeteria is a giant sound stage where they film daily segments of Teenage Humiliation Rituals. And it smells gross.
My head is killing me, my throat is killing me, my stomach bubbles with toxic waste. I just want to sleep. A coma would be nice. Or amnesia. Anything, just to get rid if this, these thoughts, whispers...
My first class is biology. I can't find it and get my first demerit for wandering the hall. It is 8:50 in the morning. Only 699 days and 7 class periods until graduation.