“The story you choose to tell isn't always the story you believe.”
“Sometimes a perfect memory can be ruined if put to words.”
“There's something ugly about a pretty boy who knows he's pretty and assumes everyone else know it too.”
“Most people, in the end, really are all on their own.”
“Ruby’s stories didn’t have morals. They meant one thing in the light and one thing in the dark and another thing entirely when she was wearing sunglasses.”
“There was something to be said for the bodiless feeling that came after the cold. Something I would always remember. When you forget how bad it hurts, you feel so free.”
“This is how I know blood is meaningless family connections are a lot like old gum -you don't have to keep chewing. You can always spit it out and stick it under the table. You can walk away.”
“Ruby told me it didn't matter what a boy was thinking about you so long as you had a good hold on what you were thinking about him.”
“I could see her smile. I wished I hadn't because it was the kind of smile she never gave to me. It was a smile for a boy who wanted to know her and never would. A smile for a girl who wanted to be like her and never could be. A smile for a perfect stranger.”
“It was Ruby's favorite kind of story: where the boys lost and the girls won and got a souvenir in the bargain.”
“Something I would always remember. When you forget how bad it hurts, you feel so free.”
“I was an echo of her.”
“In reality I was a pencil drawing of a photocopy of a Polaroid of my sister- you could see the resemblance in a certain light if you were seeking it out because I told you first if you were being nice.”
“...I sat there in the boat under her stars and her moon gated on all sides by the mountains watching the last bits of her breath float up and away.”
“Balance, Chlo … Give and take. Push and pull. You for her, her for you. I think they're mad that I tried to have it both ways to keep you alive and her, too.”
“Sure. I would go. Balloon or bus or thumb out onthe highway”
“Sometimes you need more than one way to reach the outside”
“... but when I asked where the extra doors led,Ruby smiled and said sometimes you need more than oneway to reach the outside...”
“She smelled of deep, dark things and untold secrets and all of what she was keeping from me.”
“They forgot who she was:
Something fantastic we could never explain. Someone better and bolder than every one of us. Someone to paint murals and build bridges for. Someone worth every ounce of our love.
Someone powerful, but in the end not powerful enough.”
“It is said that the fear of public speaking is a fear greater than death for most people. According to psychiatrists, the fear of public speaking is caused by the fear of ostracism, the fear of standing out, the fear of criticism, the fear of ridicule, the fear of being an outcast. THE FEAR OF BEING DIFFERENT PREVENTS MOST PEOPLE FROM SEEKING NEW WAYS TO SOLVE THEIR PROBLEMS.”
“All this, all of this love we're talking about, it would just be a memory. Maybe not even a memory. Am I wrong? Am I way off base? Because I want you to set me straight if you think I'm wrong. I want to know. I mean, I don't know anything, and I'm the first one to admit it.”
“Knowing I may never see the room again makes me look at it with fresh eyes. A fire glows in the hearth nestled into the back wall. A square, worn brown rug sits in the middle of the room. Two sets of bunk beds are arranged on either side of the rug. Only mine, the bottom bed closest to the fireplace, has the sheets tucked in and the quilt smoothed. As soon as the boys graduated from school, Mom declared them old enough to tidy up their own beds. And they decided they were old enough not to care whether they slept in tightly tucked sheets. We each have a wooden chest for our everyday clothes and shoes. The special clothes are hung in the large wooden armoire in the corner. Mother always talks about first impressions. I gnaw on my bottom lip and weigh the merits of all my clothes. Feeling confident is always easier when dressed in something special, but I hear my father’s voice replay in my head. I imagine the abandoned city street he walked in his dream. The two dresses I own won’t help me there. And even if the dreams aren’t real, I know in my heart pretty clothes won’t help once The Testing begins.”
“There is nothing more helpful than shouted instructions, particularly incomprehensible ones. I”
“I got a washed out version of Mom’s curls and a better copy of Dad’s blue eyes, The rest of me, I guess, is up for grabs. Except maybe Gran’s nose, but she could have been trying to make me feel better. I’m no prize. Most girls go through a gawky stage, but I’m beginning to think mine will be a lifelong thing. It doesn’t bother me too much. Better to be strong than pretty and useless. I’ll take a plain girl with her head screwed on right over a cheerleader any day.”
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