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483 pages, Kindle Edition
First published September 10, 2013
Levi said. “It’s hard for me to get my head around. It’s like hearing that Harry Potter is gay."Ok, why the fuck are you referencing Harry Potter after having based the entire book around a fictionalized version of Harry Potter known as Simon Snow? Why?!
“I can’t help it,” Reagan said. “You’re really pathetic.”If you looked up neuroses under the Psychiatric DSM IV, you would find Cath's picture in the title page.
“I am not.”
“You are. You don’t have any friends, your sister dumped you, you’re a freaky eater...And you’ve got some weird thing about Simon Snow.”
Cath broke open a box of protein bars. She had four more boxes and three giant jars of peanut butter shoved under her bed. If she paced herself, she might not have to face the dining hall until October.Her life revolves around her twin (Wren) and the Simon Snow series. Cath is not an appealing character. Her hyper-clumsiness aside, she just has no fucking common sense. In an upper-level Fiction Writing class, she tries to pass off fanfiction as her own work. She then tries to submit it for a grade.
“Our professor asked us to write a scene with an untrustworthy narrator. I wrote something about Simon and Baz...She didn’t get it. She thought it was plagiarism.” Cath forced herself to use that word, felt the tar wake up with a twist in her stomach.Fucking brilliant.
Cath tried not to let it all go to her head. These characters belong to Gemma T. Leslie, she wrote at the beginning of every new chapter.This book is about a girl who is full of herself.
His eyes were set so deep, it made everything he said more intense.YOU DON'T SAY!
His mouth was small, but bowed. Like a doll’s. She wondered if he had trouble opening it wide enough to eat apples.What the fuck?!
He was wearing a thick, navy blue turtleneck sweater that made him look like he was serving on a Soviet battleship.Seriously?!
She heard the very beginning of a smile in his voice—a fetal smile—and it very nearly killed her.I'd understand "fatal" smile, but "fetal?"
Inside, her internal organs were grinding themselves into nervous pulp. Her intestines were gone. Her kidneys were disintegrating. Her stomach was wringing itself out, yanking on her trachea.BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARF
“Are you the older or younger twin?”I adored their awesome, manic father. He is the sweetest, cutest dad. This may sound gross, but I kind of have a dad-crush on him.
She shrugged. “It was a C-section. But Wren was bigger. She was stealing my juice or something. I had to stay in the hospital for three weeks after she went home.”
Cath didn’t tell him that sometimes she felt like Wren was still taking more than her fair share of life, like she was siphoning vitality off Cath—or like she was born with a bigger supply.
“Cath? It’s your dad again. It’s still late, but I couldn’t wait to tell you this. You know how you guys want a bathroom upstairs? Your room is right over the bathroom. We could put in a trapdoor. And a ladder. It would be like a secret shortcut to the bathroom. Isn’t this a great idea? Call me. It’s your dad.”Reagan and Cath's relationship was the most unexpected, and the sweetest. I love the rough-around-the-edges Reagan. I loved her strength, I love her take-no-prisoners approach when it comes to pulling Cath out of her hermitage, and I love Reagan's unexpected moments of vulnerability.
“No,” Reagan said, “we’ve got to get this out of the way. You can’t be jealous. And in return, I won’t flex my best-friend muscles just to remind myself that he loved me first.”Overall: a solid book if you are willing to read it for what it actually is: a contemporary coming of age. This is not a book that accurately represents fandom.
“Oh my God”—Cath clutched her comforter in disbelief—“would you actually do that?”
“I might,” Reagan said, leaning forward, her face as shocked as Cath’s. “In a moment of weakness. You’ve got to understand, I’ve been [his] favorite girl practically my whole life."
She did everything so forcefully. She swung their door open; she slammed it shut. She was bigger than Cath, a little taller and lot more buxom (seriously, buxom). She just seemed bigger. On the inside, too.
Wren had always been the Social One. The Friendly One. The one who got invited to quinceaneras and birthday parties. But before—in junior high and high school—everyone knew that if you invited Wren, you got Cath. They were a package deal, even at dances. There were three years’ worth of photos, taken at every homecoming, of Cath and Wren standing with their dates under an archway of balloons or in front of a glittery curtain.
They were a package deal, period. Since always.
“Dad. Why haven’t you called me? I left you a million messages.”
“You left me too many messages. You shouldn’t be calling me or even thinking about me. You’re in college now. Move on.”
“It’s just school, Dad. It’s not like we have irreconcilable differences.”
“Honey, I’ve watched a lot of 90210. The parents weren’t even on the show once Brandon and Brenda went to college. This is your time—you’re supposed to be going to frat parties and getting back together with Dylan.”
“Why does everyone want me to go to frat parties?”
“Who wants you to go to frat parties? I was just kidding. Don’t hang out with frat guys, Cath, they’re terrible. All they do is get drunk and watch 90210.”
(talking about Wren, her twin sister, and Wren's boyfriend) "Maybe we should go on lots of double dates," Cath said, "and then we can get married on the same day in a double ceremony, in matching dresses, and the four of us will light the unity candle all at the same time."
"Pfft," Levi said, "I'm picking out my own dress."
“Real life was something happening in her peripheral vision.”
Sometimes writing is running downhill, your fingers jerking behind you on the keyboard the way your legs do when they can't keep up with gravity.
And sometimes you held somebody's hand just to prove that you were still alive, and that another human being was there to testify to that fact.
“To really be a nerd, she'd decided, you had to prefer fictional worlds to the real one.”
― Rainbow Rowell, Fangirl
"It's bad enough that you have homemade Simon Snow posters," Reagan had said last night while she was getting ready for bed. "Do you have to have gay homemade Simon Snow posters?"
Cath had looked up at the drawing over her desk of Simon and Baz holding hands. "Leave them alone," she said. "They're in love.”
“I feel sorry for you, and I'm going to be your friend."
"I don't want to be your friend," Cath said as sternly as she could. "I like that we're not friends."
"Me, too. I'm sorry you ruined it by being so pathetic.”
“Most of my friends went to other schools. Or their online.”
“Internet friends don’t count.”
“What's the plan?' she asked.
He grinned. 'My plan is to do things that make you want to hang out with me again tomorrow. What's your plan?'
'I'm going to try not to make an ass of myself.'
He grinned. 'So we're all set.”
“You’re beautiful,” she said.
“Don’t argue with me. You’re beautiful.”
“Cath couldn't stop thinking about Levi and his ten thousand smiles.”
“I choose you over everyone.”
“You’ve read the books?”
“I’ve seen the movies.”
Cath rolled her eyes so hard, it hurt. (Actually.) (Maybe because she was still on the edge of tears. On the edge, period.) “So you haven’t read the books.”
“I’m not really a book person.”
“That might be the most idiotic thing you’ve ever said to me.
“Why are you reading that?” Wren had asked when she noticed.
“Something without a dragon or an elf on the cover.”
“What’s wrong with Levi?”
“Nothing,” Cath said. “He’s just … not like me.”
“You mean, smart?”
“Levi’s really smart,” Cath said defensively.
“I know,” Reagan said, just as defensively.
“He’s different,” Cath said. “He’s older. He smokes. And he drinks. And he’s probably had sex. I mean, he looks like he has.”
Reagan raised her eyebrows like Cath was talking crazy. And Cath thought—not for the first time, but for the first time since last night—that Levi had probably had sex with Reagan.
“And he likes to be outside,” Cath said, just to change the subject. “And he likes animals. We don’t have anything in common.”
“You’re making him sound like he’s some rowdy mountain man who, like, smokes cigars and has sex with prostitutes.”
“I find Ugg boots really comforting,” Cath said.
“Why? Because they’re warm?”
“No. Because they remind me that we live in a place where you can still get away with, even get excited about, Ugg boots. In fashionable places, you have to pretend that you’re over them, or that you’ve always hated them. But in Nebraska, you can still be happy about new Ugg boots. That’s nice. There’s no end of the innocence.”