Wolves, Boys and Other Things That Might Kill Me

The thing about an Alpha, male or female, is that they can lead. When things get desperate they attack instead of retreat.

Maybe the future is like rowing for shore. Your only choice is to try or give up.

I would laugh at all my provincial inmates, but I’m too busy lusting. I’m not usually interested in a guy with “take a number” on his forehead, but this guy doesn’t have a forehead — it’s buried in messy blond hair. And he’s not one of the twenty guys I’ve known my entire pubescent life. he smiles like the Fourth of July. What’s a dumb girl to do but get in line with everyone else not in his league? I guess journalism just became my most beloved class.

How long were you standing out there?" "I don't know. Forty-three minutes." "You must be freezing. And a stalker.

Hey, knock it off," says Virgil "What?" I whispered "You kicked me." "Sorry

There's this new guy who is really great who I've thoroughly offended." "Teenage boys don't listen enough to be offended.

I'm not really a stalker, but my school is so small it's hard not to notice a person's schedule if you have a compound crush and a guilt complex about them.

Wolves don't actually howl at the moon. Mostly they howl at each other. I'm a girl, so I get that.

I wish I knew how to change my patterns--all of them. But it's like the blood in my finger. I screw up and there it is, just the stuff I'm made of, making a mess again.

I don’t mind being watched by trees. It’s everyone else that makes me feel like the stupid-smart–intermittently-imploding girl.

I'm a pathetic random pattern. I'm a nonsequential but recurring loser. I'm fluid stupidity.

Like what? You think I'm gay or something?