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400 pages, Kindle Edition
First published August 2, 2016
I asked him where they came from, more than once. Where did your stories start? He side-stepped. He pleaded imagination. He went silent, stood abruptly, and left me in the blanket fort. Stories have beginnings, origins. But what do they matter? They aren’t real.
Here's a secret, though. I was hungry for the violent stories, the sheared-off body parts, the vengeful heroes, as much as any boy could have been.
Her pale form stands out against the night. She has the look of a character from one of Ben’s stories. My throat tightens. She reminds me of the lily-pad maiden who was strangled by a mad king and left in a watery grave.
The truth is a vindictive fuck.
“The night everything that mattered changed.”
“People wear sadness like they wear hats.”
“I am reckless. I am a heaving chest.”
“I am a story.”
"There's space between what you see and what I feel. In my experience there's usually a line that separates what people choose to show the world and what they keep hidden."
"'Sometimes it's safer not to care so much.'"
"Most siblings want to be different. They want to say this is me and that is you. But we were amateur brother and sister from the start. Both survivors of things we didn't want to talk about. Instead of crying over what we couldn't change, we reinvented ourselves as two kids who had, and only needed, each other."You'll get serious Cheryl and Jason Blossom vibes from these two. They're all each other had in a sense; all that tied them to the town they wanted nothing more to get out of.