Across the Green Grass Fields (Wayward Children, #6)

by Seanan McGuire

They thought children, especially girl children, were all sugar and lace, and that when those children fought, they would do so cleanly and in the open, where adult observers could intervene. It was like they’d drawn a veil of fellow-feeling and good intentions over their own childhoods as soon as they crossed the magic line into adulthood, and left all the strange feuds, unexpected betrayals, and arbitrary shunnings behind them.

Regan had known from the beginning that Laurel’s love was conditional. It came with so many strings that it was easy to get tangled inside it, unable to even consider trying to break free. Laurel’s love was a safe, if rigid, cocoon. Regan bit her lip and shook her head, unsure how to articulate any of the things she was feeling. “Laurel’s my best friend,” she said. “Does that make it okay for her to push you around and tell you Heather can’t be your friend anymore? Is that fair? You know there’s no right way to be a girl. Destiny isn’t reality.”

These people might be centaurs, creatures out of myth and storybook, but they were people. They could be embarrassed by their own actions and by their overbearing parents. They weren’t awe-inspiring. They were just people.

If I have to be somewhere I don’t belong, at least I can be somewhere that has unicorns.”

We aren’t civilized, but we aren’t stupid.”