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336 pages, Hardcover
First published August 4, 2015
“Nah it's too late: You care. You're on Planet Digby now. You're already in trouble.”
“Wait. That was in my diary. You read my diary?’
‘I didn’t read it… much. I skimmed it. You know, you’re way ahead of the game. Most people don’t have their identity crisis until their forties. You’re wrong, by the way,’ he said, and he quoted: 'Medium-length brown hair, brown eyes, medium height. All I see in the mirror is a medium brown blur.'
I lunged at him.
‘You don’t really think that, do you, Princeton? Because that makes me want to cry. And also … Henry gets “hero handsome” and all I get is “Jehovah’s Witness?”
“I’m always shocked when rich girls aren’t pretty. How could you be unattractive if you had all the nicest clothes and makeup? It didn’t compute. But I guess there really were some things money can’t buy. Ursula was a hatchet-face. Even wearing a straw hat and a gingham bikini, she looked like she’d just murdered someone and was calculating how to dispose of the corpse.”
“By the way, Princeton, I’d describe you as a classic wide-eyed American girl next door with a nice-to-meet-you vibe who’s hiding behind a disappointed divorce-kid downer persona,
And looks-wise, I’d say a young Anne Hathaway.’
Digby stepped out onto the tree. But, just in case that left me feeling too good about myself, he ducked back in for an encore.
‘Except horsier. Seriously, Princeton, wear your retainer.”