One of the tricks of her situation, Nola had learned, was never falling for fiction. Letting your loneliness tempt you into the fantasy of the handsome football star who inexplicably falls for the unkempt outcast. The mean girl who ends up seeing the light. The big-hearted teacher who notices what no one else does and saves the day. Characters like that were what had made Nola stop reading YA. Even vampires were more realistic.
