The Virgin Suicides

by Jeffrey Eugenides

we had thought girls douched every night like brushing their teeth.

HUH

still sleeping in a separate bedroom from her husband, the Christian Scientist. Propped up in bed, she still wore pearled cat’s-eye sunglasses during the daytime, and still rattled ice cubes in the tall glass she claimed contained only water;

Im not seeing an issue

“They’ll grow out. Fingernails keep growing. She can’t bite them now, dear.”

In addition to a zodiac mobile, Lucy found a collection of potent amethysts, as well as a pack of Tarot cards under Cecilia’s pillow

So she was cool as hell

We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn’t fathom them at all. We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.

I knew I had to close that window or else she’d go on jumping out of it forever.”