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And not just beautiful, but hot, too, with her breasts straining against her tight tank top, her curved legs swinging back and forth beneath the swing, flip-flops dangling from her electric-blue-painted toes. It was right then, between when I asked about the labyrinth and when she answered me, that I realized the importance of curves, of the thousand places where girls’ bodies ease from one place to another, from arc of the foot to ankle to calf, from calf to hip to waist to breast to neck to ski-slope nose to forehead to shoulder to the concave arch of the back to the butt to the etc. I’d
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*Puuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuke*
When Alaska Young is sitting with her legs crossed in a brittle, periodically green clover patch leaning forward in search of four-leaf clovers, the pale skin of her sizable cleavage clearly visible, it is a plain fact of human physiology that it becomes impossible to join in her clover search. I’d gotten in enough trouble already for looking where I wasn’t supposed to, but still…
Jesus Christ.
“Y’all smoke to enjoy it. I smoke to die.”
Very John Oliver voice: Cool.
I sat in the hall with my back against the wall and read my American history textbook (kind of remedial reading for me, to be honest)
You really need to mark out a space in your debut novel to brag about reading history books. What a sad, tiny, little man.
He lay on the top bunk, reading for his English class. Moby-Dick. “How can you read and talk at the same time?” I asked. “Well, I usually can’t, but neither the book nor the conversation is particularly intellectually challenging.” “I like that book,” Alaska said. “Yes.” The Colonel smiled and leaned over to look at her from his top bunk. “You would. Big white whale is a metaphor for everything. You live for pretentious metaphors.”
I don't love Moby Dick but I cannot abide John fucking Green attempting to dunk on it.
It wasn’t even a particularly big trailer. I could just barely stand up to my full height without scraping the ceiling. Now I understood why the Colonel was short—he couldn’t afford to be any taller.
ha Ha?
Alaska decided to go help Dolores with dinner. She said that it was sexist to leave the cooking to the women, but better to have good sexist food than crappy boy-prepared food.
Sexism is hilarious when it's mildly ironic- said a John Green fan somewhere
and there were never fewer than three layers between us,
What is with the creepy obsession about how many layers are blocking them?
And I said, you saw her and he said yes and I said how did she look and he said, just a bit of blood coming out of her nose,
You know, one of those fatal car accidents where there's just a drop of nose blood after.
“What if she did do it?” I asked the Colonel. “We’re not any less guilty. All it does is make her into this awful, selfish bitch.”
Jesus, this is some hateful shit.
I lit a cigarette and spit into the creek. “You can’t just make me different and then leave,” I said out loud to her. “Because I was fine before, Alaska. I was fine with just me and last words and school friends, and you can’t just make me different and then die.” For she had embodied the Great Perhaps—she had proved to me that it was worth it to leave behind my minor life for grander maybes, and now she was gone and with her my faith in perhaps. I could call everything the Colonel said and did “fine.” I could try to pretend that I didn’t care anymore, but it could never be true again. You
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The worst paragraph yet.
Lunch at McInedible
Guess there's no "Tacohells" in the South, HaHAAAAAAAAAAHahaha I'm DROWNING in the cleverness
“Do you feel drunk?” “If drunk were cookies, I’d be Famous Amos.” We laughed. “Chips Ahoy! would have been funnier,” I said.
Would it have, though?
The Colonel pulled a cigarette out of his pack and threw it into the water. “What the hell?” I asked. “For her,” he said. I half smiled and followed his lead, throwing in a cigarette of my own. I handed Takumi and Lara cigarettes, and they followed suit. The smokes bounced and danced in the stream for a few moments, and then they floated out of sight.
Ah yes, littering to respect the dead
