Stephanie Perkins Quote
What's that?My friend St. Clair bought it for me. So I wouldn't feel out of place.She raises her eyebrows as she pulls back onto the road. Are there a lot of Canadians in Paris?My face warms. I just felt,you know, stupid for a while. Like one of those lame American tourists with the white sneakers and the cameras around their necks? So he bought it for me, so I wouldn't feel....embarrassed. American.Being American is nothing to be ashamed of, she snaps.God,Mom,I know.I just meant-forget it.Is this the English boy with the French father?What does that have anything to do with it? I'm angry. I don't like what she's implying. Besides,he's American. He was born here? His mom lives in San Francisco. We sat next to each other on the plane.We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me. You like him.OH GOD,MOM.You do.You like this boy.He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend.Anna has a boooy-friend, Seany chants.I do not!ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!I take a sip of coffee and choke. It's disgusting. It's sludge. No, it's worse than sludge-at least sludge is organic. Seany is still taunting me. Mom reaches around and grabs his legs,which are kicking her seat again.She sees me making a face at my drink.My,my. Once semester in France, and suddenly we're Miss Sophisticated. Your father will be thrilled.Like it was my choice! Like I asked to go to Paris! And how she mention Dad.ANNNN-A HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!We merge back onto the interstate. It's rush hour,and the Atlanta traffic has stopped moving. The car behind ours shakes us with its thumping bass. The car in front sprays a cloud of exhaust straight into our vents.Two weeks.Only two more weeks.s
What's that?My friend St. Clair bought it for me. So I wouldn't feel out of place.She raises her eyebrows as she pulls back onto the road. Are there a lot of Canadians in Paris?My face warms. I just felt,you know, stupid for a while. Like one of those lame American tourists with the white sneakers and the cameras around their necks? So he bought it for me, so I wouldn't feel....embarrassed. American.Being American is nothing to be ashamed of, she snaps.God,Mom,I know.I just meant-forget it.Is this the English boy with the French father?What does that have anything to do with it? I'm angry. I don't like what she's implying. Besides,he's American. He was born here? His mom lives in San Francisco. We sat next to each other on the plane.We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me. You like him.OH GOD,MOM.You do.You like this boy.He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend.Anna has a boooy-friend, Seany chants.I do not!ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!I take a sip of coffee and choke. It's disgusting. It's sludge. No, it's worse than sludge-at least sludge is organic. Seany is still taunting me. Mom reaches around and grabs his legs,which are kicking her seat again.She sees me making a face at my drink.My,my. Once semester in France, and suddenly we're Miss Sophisticated. Your father will be thrilled.Like it was my choice! Like I asked to go to Paris! And how she mention Dad.ANNNN-A HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!We merge back onto the interstate. It's rush hour,and the Atlanta traffic has stopped moving. The car behind ours shakes us with its thumping bass. The car in front sprays a cloud of exhaust straight into our vents.Two weeks.Only two more weeks.s
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