Saint Anything

by Sarah Dessen

He’s just got a huge ego that, left unchecked, is a threat to society.

“I believe,” Mrs. Chatham said, picking up her Pepsi, “that it is supposed to be an ironic take on the universality of the early teen experience. But I might have that wrong. I will admit to tuning out at some point.”

She was a mean hippie. Who even knew such a thing existed? Bitch.”

“There’s also Ford’s basement, but there’s always laundry going down there and Eric claims the smell of fabric softener gives him a headache.” “Rock star problems.” “Eric problems.” She sighed. “They’re like first world, but even more privileged.”

Later, I’d look back at this as the last time things felt perfect, and be so grateful for it.

But this was one thing, for me, that I wanted.”

“All I want is someone decent.” She sniffled again, her eyes filling with tears. “You know? Kind. Good. Like in all those love stories I’m such an expert on. It can’t just be fiction. It can’t. Those guys are out there, I know it. I just can’t find them.”

You don’t get the something you really covet, but then the universe provides unexpected compensation.

Anyway, it was unrealistic to expect to be constantly in the happiest place. In real life, you’re lucky just to be always somewhere nearby.