Saira Viola · 128 pages
Rating: (47 votes)
“Mishaque was a stouty blend of Irish "shrek" mixed with crazy Jafakain, his front was car dealing.”
“A Harvey Nicks chick with throwaway morals and a trustfund appetite.”
“T was in a blue mood , his open reflections on the isloation of his life floating like Jazz notes under a "pink moon”
“He was a boom boom shake the room " kind of guy”
“With him big Phil from Notting Hill an old "face" from the sixties a pin up gangster with a "mars bar" weal scraping his left cheek and of course two "wag" slags in tow trussed up like French Poodles with "Bratz babe" stares and Gucci Handbags”
“Tis Dante I prefer. In his Inferno he suggests the one true path from Hell lies at its very heart...
...and that in order to escape, we must instead go further IN.”
“What's strange about the whole thing is that although it's riddled with nonsense, altogether it's true - Julie's told our story, mine and hers, our friendship, so truthfully. It is us. We even had the same dream at the same time. How could we have had the same dream at the same time? How can something so wonderful and mysterious be true? But it is.
And this, even more wonderful and mysterious, is also true: when I read it, when I read what Julie's written, she is instantly alive again, whole and undamaged. With her words in my mind while I'm reading, she is as real as I am. Gloriously daft, drop-dead charming, full of bookish nonsense and foul language, brave and generous. She's right here. Afraid and exhausted, alone, but fighting. Flying in silver moonlight in a plane that can't be landed, stuck in the climb - alive, alive, ALIVE.”
“A drowning man groping for a twig.”
“...she's leaving now.
...
Janis attacks the back door of the school gym and finds herself in a heavy cloud of smoke. She realizes she's found the Goths' hangout. Who knew?
"Oof," someone says. She keeps walking, muttering, "sorry" to whomever it was she hit with the flying door.
***
Cabel: ... That was the Goth stage where I decided I'd never get the girl of my dreams because of my scars. Not to mention the hairstyle.
(pause)
But then she slammed a door handle into my gut. And, when a girl does that to a boy, it means she likes him.”
“I’m safer than I’ve been in days, surrounded by the people I love most, and yet I’ve never wanted to cry more. For them, I hold back. I curl inward and bleed alone, inside, where no one else can see.”
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