Y is for Yesterday

The cold hard truth will fall on stony ground, whereas your all-around trashy rumor will flourish like a weed.

a book has no unwanted calories and you don’t have to worry about sizes as long as the subject matter appeals to the recipient.

I'm not saying justice is for sale, but if you have enough money, you can sometimes enjoy the benefits of a short-term lease.

I've given this a great deal of thought and what I've realized is that revenge doesn't have to be an eye for an eye. Retaliation can take any number of forms. It doesn't need to be crude or obvious. The point is, the pain should be equivalent; not tit for tat but something comparable.

My practice is to cut the finished product on the diagonal and then wrap it in waxed paper that I still fold the way my Aunt Gin taught me. I’d added two Milano cookies and, being ever so dainty, I included two paper napkins, one to serve as a place mat and one for dabbing my lips.

one of those peanut butter and pickle sandwiches I’m so fussy about. Whole grain bread, Jif Extra Crunchy, and Vlasic or Mrs. Fanning’s Bread’n Butter Pickles.

same cup he always carried, his perpetual bourbon and Coke.

Why not? You’ve already interrupted my work.” “Sorry about that, but here’s the deal. I want to talk to the players in the case, but I have no cover story and no bargaining power. I can hardly pass myself off as a reporter.” “Sure you can,” she said. “People are more interested in talking than you’d think. I see it all the time when I’m trolling for interviews. Here’s the trick. Imply you have the information and you’re looking for confirmation. Better yet, tell ’em you’d like to hear their version of events before you go to press. Say your editor wants an update and he suggested you talk to them.” “I wouldn’t need press credentials?” “Only if you’re crashing a rock concert. People assume you’re who you say you are.” “What about Sloan’s mother? Do you think she’d agree to meet with me?” “God, you sound so tentative. I thought you had balls. Trust me, she’ll talk. All she does is talk about Sloan’s death. People who know her say she’s obsessed. For years now, she’s left Sloan’s room as it was. Closed the door and locked it.” “Someone else mentioned that,” I said. “Sounds like she’s still sensitive about the

what you’re so worried

I hid the fold of paper in my bra, where I knew it would remain undisturbed.

Climp. After Sloan’s death, the two boys decided to move in with their dad. Joey was in the same graduating class she was. His brother,

My dear, acting out is not the point because then the game would end. If I gave up the hope of reprisal, I'd forfeit the anger, which is better than pain.

By doing nothing, Sloan's so-called friends had sealed her fate as surely as Fritz had with his gun. In hindsight, did any of them recognize the price she had paid for their passivity? Their failure to act was all the more damning for the ease with which they rationalized their behavior afterward.