More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
I’m left with the fact that Father and Dad had a bunch of babies that filled them with love and hope, that those kids all died except two of us, and I just threw it in Father’s face because I want to go on an adventure.
“I know that you two think you have all the answers, but you’re fifteen years old, which means you’re also idiots.
It doesn’t bother me except at these moments, when I watch the dads hold hands and walk in step under a sky full of stars, when I know their peacefulness is somehow tied to their romance, to their love, that it’s a source of relief and comfort I’ll never have.
When Yarrow leans back, I’m shocked by what I find on his face. My brother isn’t there. It’s like he’s someone else entirely. His eyes are dark, cold, lifeless. I’ve never met anyone new before, but it’s like a stranger has suddenly dropped into our family.
But there are still signs that he’s not himself. His brow is shiny. His hands are clenched tight. A thousand wrong things are hitting my brain in its subconscious parts, telling me that Yarrow isn’t quite Yarrow anymore.
I see him see me see him. Don’t say anything, his expression says. He’s my brother, and I love him, so I don’t. But he’s also not my brother. I don’t know where my brother went.
“He’s exhibiting unusual vital signs,”
Even if I’m worthless, even if I’m just a tool to be disposed of, useless to family or country, even if the only person who actually loved me is well and truly dead, I have this power to attract and compel. At least that’s still mine.
Labels are the Root of Violence.
“That as soon as we classify someone, we establish the ways in which they’re separate from us. It’s the most fundamental othering that we do.”
I will live in these current moments as fully as possible. Then I will be gone. Ambrose will be gone. Sheep will be gone. It arrives. The brightness between us.
