After the movie we have an unspoken understanding to hustle out so we don’t run into Genevieve again. The two of us bolt out of the theater like the devil is on our heels – which, I suppose, she sort of is.
Stormy died in her sleep last night. The funeral is in Rhode Island on Wednesday. I just thought you’d want to know.
I look at Peter’s profile out of the corner of my eye. Sometimes I still can’t believe he’s mine. The handsomest boy of all the handsome boys is mine, all mine.
He says it with all the certainty only a teenage boy can have.
They had looked at me like I was a real girl, not just somebody’s little sister.
We were never a thing, not really, but we almost were, and to me, that’s something.
IT’s a rare thing, to know someone so well, whether they’ll pivot left or right.
It’s funny how much of who we are as babies is who we are as we get older.
Why not take a chance and bet on happiness?
I read his texts over and over. They’re spaced minutes apart, so I know he must be fretting over whether I’m mad or not. I don’t want to be mad. I just want things to go back to how they were before.
Peter never met a compliment he didn’t smile at.
At dinner Trina and Margot are cordial to each other, as if nothing happened. Which, in some ways, is worse than a fight. At least when you’re in a fight, you’re in it with someone.
The vote was between New York City and Disney World, and New York won.
But the really special thing I’ve included is my letter, the one I wrote to him so long ago, the one that brought us together. I wanted to keep it, but something felt right about Peter having it. One day all of this will be proof, proof that we were here, proof that we loved each other. It’s the guarantee that no matter what happens to us in the future, this time was ours.
But with me he’s been distant. Like even though he’s right here next to me, he feels far away. Unreachable.
The distance came slowly, like seawater filling up a boat, without us even realizing it. Before you know it you’re underwater.
You’re teenagers. Life doesn’t always work out the way you think it’s going to work out...
Oh, yes, I’m very refined, Peter.
Around ten he sends a text that says, Sorry something came up. I can’t come over tonight. He doesn’t say where he is or what he’s doing, but I already know. He’s with Genevieve.
Suddenly it feels like every decision we make is so momentous, and I’m so scared to make the wrong one.