Jules’s Profile

“Carrie? Hello?”

“Keer-ee-eh,” I said, emphasizing the middle vowel.  Normally, I don’t care if people mispronounce my name, unusual as it is, but I was annoyed at the distraction.

“Like the song?”

Turning, I leveled a glare at my interrupter.  Not very good of me, customer-service wise, but I was not feeling myself. “Yes, I was named after the pop song,” I said. “Exactly.”

“Why would your mom do that?”

Because when you’re eighteen and pregnant and unmarried and homeless and that song comes on the radio, it holds a lot of spiritual and emotional meaning to your immature and overwhelmed little self.  But I didn’t say that.  Instead I shrugged. “Lots of parents name their kids after songs.”
― Genevieve Pearson, Revelations

“First Cooper and now Quinn, she had to stay off this porch, it was a dangerous place to be.”
― Theresa Shaver, Land, A Stranded Novel

“Don’t worry.   Your knight in shining armor will arrive someday.   And when he does, I know he’ll not only be totally adorable, but he’ll be a good cuddler, too.   I’ll bet Trip is a horrible cuddler.”   I narrowed my eyes at the offender, ignoring his amazing body in favor of his imagined snuggling crimes.

“Yeah,” said Peter, gamely.   “He probably just lays there and expects to be the cuddlee all the time and not the cuddler.”

“You are so right.   Just look at him.   I’ll bet you twenty bucks he’s a cover-stealer, too.”

“Not that twenty bucks means anything, since bills are only good for feeding fires right now, but yeah.   I get it.   I’ll bet you a can of beans he’s a cover-stealer.”

“A can of beans and a bag of chips,” I countered.

“Whoa.   That’s serious.   A bag of chips?   Really?”

“What’s serious?” asked Kowi, coming up from behind and scaring both of us enough to make us jump.

“Uh … nothing?” I said, looking sheepish.”
― Elle Casey, Warpaint

“Maybe he used to like me, but I doubt he does anymore, now that I’ve insulted his bird fetish.”

Peter smiled.   “He’s not going to stop liking you over one little argument.   I don’t think he’s the type to just fall for someone and then hate them the next day.   We don’t live in that kind of world anymore, anyway.”

“What do you mean?”  

“Well, when there were thousands of possible mates to choose from, it was like being a huge candy store with a billion types of sugary things to choose from.   You could sample one of everything and not worry about whether you’d like it much or whatever, because there was always another jar of candy nearby.   But now, there’s no candy store.   There’s a single jawbreaker that you found in the gutter.   And there are no more jawbreaker factories.   No more candy stores.   No more refined sugar.   That one jawbreaker you found could be the only one you’ll ever have again.   You aren’t going to just eat it and say goodbye.”

His analogy wasn’t perfect but I saw where he was going with it.   “So I’m like a jawbreaker.   A dirty one you find in the gutter.”

“Yeah.   And he likes that candy.   It’s his favorite.   So he doesn’t care that it has smelly feet.”

I scowled at him.   “How do you know he likes jawbreakers so much?”

“I just know.   I can tell a good match when I see one.   He needs someone spunky and tough, someone different than other girls.   That’s you.”

I smiled, liking how Peter had described me.   “But what if he just decides to eat it real quick and then move on?   I mean, there are other jawbreakers out there.   They’re just more rare.”

“That’s not how he is.   He’s methodical.   A thinking person.   He’s not rash. And he knows his odds of finding a jawbreaker of this flavor?   Are pretty slim.”

“I’ve seen him do some stupid, rash things … like going after the candy at the Cracker Barrel.”

“That was all a very carefully-crafted way of making sure he had a good grip on his jawbreaker.   He wants to keep the candy happy.   Keep it sweet.”

I rolled my eyes.   “Ugh.   Your analogy is making me want to eye gouge you right now.”
― Elle Casey, Kahayatle