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Flyleaf’s “I’m So Sick.”
Such a throwback
Mason… My best friend. My hero, always my hero.
I stumble back a step at the same time he chucks the phone on the floor and stomps on it with his shoe, shattering it, sending pieces skittering across the floor. Just before I turn around, and run like hell, I see his whole body curve with the punch he aims right for Clay’s face.
“You three are gonna be trouble when you’re older, aren’t you?”
Izzy </3
“If the grown-ups fail, we step in. The three musketeers.” Waylon chuckles as I raise my light-saber in the air, roaring, “All for one!”
Aw that's where it started
“For JJ.” “For JJ,” I say back.
"For Aquillus" :')
“All for one?” Izzy says, looking at each of us. Waylon and I murmur back, our pretend swords raised in the air. “And one for all.”
It’s this moment, right here, that I realize just how happy I am that Mom moved us to Shiloh. I have the best friends ever. Izzy and Waylon and… And Jeremy.
“He wouldn’t do anything.” You didn’t hear him in the hallway, I think. You didn’t see his face in the bathroom.
Glad at least one of those assholes bled for what they did. Not enough. Not fucking enough.
“No. No, Iz. I’m not worth that.” She whips her head toward me, brown hair flying. Glaring at me, she says, “You’re worth everything.”
If given a choice between who has to suffer—me or her—I’ll always choose me.
Never would I wish to trade places, and snuff out that fire that makes Izzy Izzy. The very thought of her being anything less than who she is makes my stomach churn.
Oh this hurts so much more now
“He said, ‘Tell Jeremy, don’t speak in class.’”
dont speak at all lips are sealed I mean it I know. me too Promise? Promise
Gnight jeremy the wicked
I find myself resting my head against the door, just watching him as his raspy, slightly off-key voice sings about lies and love, and dreams of colors and red. And finding a better man…
His voice mingling with the familiar scratch of a pencil is…oddly soothing. Hypnotic even…
“It’s different for us.” “How?” “It’s not….out there.” He makes a vague gesture behind me. “It’s inside us. The thing that keeps pushing us to create.”
“Maybe…maybe the point is to not perfect someone else’s art, but to…learn, so you can create your own.”
“Makes me wonder sometimes, who I’d be now if it wasn’t for anxiety.”
Ouch, that hits really close to home
I give my head a little shake, rejecting that…that alternate version of Jeremy, whoever he is, in whatever universe that version so happens to be found. This Jeremy—my Jeremy—the only Jeremy that matters, doesn’t see me though. He’s miles away, gaze far off.
“And then…you showed up.” His mouth twitches with a smile, and in his eyes, I see that boy he once was—the boy I was, reflected back. “And you showed me Pearl Jam,” he says with a laugh. “‘Jeremy,’” I say, nodding, remembering. “Yup, and just like that, watching you light up when you saw how shocked I was. How much I loved it.” He shakes his head, eyes full of wonder, like he’s right back there. “Suddenly, I had a…a small corner of that world,” —he waves a hand, as if indicating outside this room— “their world, but one that was made just for me, and me alone.” His gaze refocuses on mine, and
...more
I love them so much
I’ve got a year and half before I go off to college in New York City—at
My heart just broke
Gavin’s got his bar, but weeknights are slow, and he’s got other bartenders to cover for him if he needs to take off.
OH. Why did it not click in my head it was Gavin who owns the bar they work at in the first 2 books
my cellphone starts ringing from where it’s sitting on the end table, plugged into the wall.
I'm so anxious, I know we have to be close to when Way's dad nearly kills him
A sharp sort of hitch of breath greets me,
Uh oh
“Mason,” Izzy chokes out on a sob.
Fuck. I knew it was coming
Frozen, I barely feel my lips move as I say, “What happened?” Jeremy. That’s all I can think. Something fucking happened to Jeremy.
“Waylon,” she forces out, her voice barely even discernible. “It’s Waylon.”
My sweet precious baby angel Way
His knuckles are twice the size they normally are, black and blue and red, with stitches woven in where he’d broken skin. He fought back.
Izzy found him. Saved his fucking life, according to the EMTs. Five minutes. That’s how long he probably had left by the time they got to him.
He mumbles something, and it takes me a second to register what it is. And when I do, my chest breaks open all over again. “I’m free.”
</3
Makes more sense for you guys. You’re everything to him.”
This honestly breaks my fucking heart because Jeremy has known Waylon way longer than Mason. Why is everyone just forgetting about my baby JJ?
he spins toward me, grips my shoulder with surprising strength, and all but shoves me to a crouch. Lowering himself in the process. “Put your head between your knees.”
He is always the one who gets Mason through his panic attacks, I am sobbing
What would have happened if Jeremy wasn’t here? How did he know?
Chronic anxiety is enough of a prison. I’ll never fully break out if I just surrender to it.”
Weak is the last thing I think of when I think of you.”
They are killing me
Reggie. Waylon’s uncle.
<333
Izzy’s frantic phone call. The blinding fear that it was Jeremy—that he was hurt. The brief, fleeting relief I felt when I found it wasn’t him…
It hits me so hard and sudden, how much he means to me—Waylon. The miserable little shit who once hated me all because Izzy wanted to be my friend.
The three of us…Izzy, Waylon, and me… There’s no us without him. We’re supposed to go to New York together. College. All of us. Jeremy included. All for one and one for all.
Oof.
In my ear, Jeremy’s reminding me to breathe, and that it will be okay, and he’s coming. He’s on his way. He’ll be here in only a few short minutes.
“Is Phoebe—oomph.” He stumbles back when I crash into him, throwing my arms around him in a crushing bear hug.
I seal my eyes shut, burying my face in his shoulder, breathing in his familiar scent—the cinnamon gum he loves so much, combined with the cloying earthy notes of weed, and something else.
“It’s gonna be okay,” he utters in a surprisingly fierce voice, and for some reason, coming from him, I believe it. Nodding, I give him a small, sad smile. “You’re my hero.”
Only if you look close enough, will you find evidence of past wars waged.
</3
“Izzy forgot her lucky scrunchie.” I frown. “She doesn’t have a lucky scrunchie.” “I know,” he murmurs, barely audible.
Mason doesn’t do quiet. He doesn’t mentally check out like this. He doesn’t hold shit in. It’s not in his nature.
those two are the embers in the ashes.
Ember... Too soon, Jessie, don't do his to me
