"Her blue cotton shirt dipped below her beige tank."
“Oh, God,” I moaned. She thought I was doing “it” with him.
"Her silky red hair had glimmered in the moonlight."
"Wow. I thought I was the only person at this school faking every moment."
"I loved the sound of her sweet voice. Part angel, part music."
"Damn, she smelled like cinnam...more
"Luke used to give me butterflies.
Noah spawned mutant pterodactyls."
Normal. She wanted normal and so did I.
The worst type of crying wasn't the kind everyone else could see- the wailing on street corners, the tearing at clothes. No, the worst kind happened when your soul wept and no matter what you did, there was no way to comfort it. A section withered and became a scar on the part of your soul that survived. For people like me and Echo, our souls contained more scar tissue than life.
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