Faceless

You have to learn to love yourself before you can love someone else. Because it's only when we love ourselves that we feel worthy of someone else's love.

Oh my god. I can’t believe I slapped him. And I can’t help thinking Wow, I did it with my left hand, Marnie would be so proud.

Before that, I listened to music as loud as I could, like I thought I could drown the pain out.

Adam shakes his head. “The point isn’t to forget what happened to us.” “I didn’t mean forget, like, I wouldn’t actually remember what had happened. I just don’t want to be constantly reminded of what I look like now.” “Like Clyde said, eventually you have to accept it.” I shake my head. “That’s not what Clyde said.” “Yeah, but you know as well as I do that that’s what he was getting at.” “Well, now you’ve deprived me of the chance to figure it out myself. I’m going to tell Clyde on you.” “Tattletale,” Adam says, grinning. “Seriously, though, Maisie—acceptance is the key. Acceptance is everything.” “Don’t use your motivational speech stuff on me.” “How do you know I give motivational speeches?” “I Googled you.” “You Googled me?” “Right after we met.” I don’t add that I haven’t looked up any other injuries since I Googled his. “Guess I made quite an impression, huh?”... “Nah,” I answer. “I was just impressed you found a way to parlay your injury into a lucrative career.

We were about a mile from school, on a path in the park, when Chirag reached down and took off his shoes, tossing them into the trees beside us. “What are you doing?” I shouted in between breaths. Step, breath. Step, breath. He was a few yards ahead of me. I took advantage of his pause to pass him; I wasn’t about to let him beat me. “There’s a tribe of Indians in Mexico who are the best runners in the world,” he shouted. “They run barefoot for miles and miles and never break a sweat.” “You’re not that kind of Indian,” I shouted back, and Chirag laughed, his golden skin shimmering beneath his sweat. “You should try it, too!” “No way!” I replied without turning around to face him. “The ground is filthy. There could be glass or splinters or something.” “Aw, come on, Maisie,” he cooed, coming up on my left side and getting a few steps ahead of me once more. “I dare you.