Max

“We write our own stories, after all. Why not write happiness into mine?”
― Heather Vogel Frederick, Mother-Daughter Book Camp

“Mack Jefferson, my best—and only—friend, reads to me from his Braille edition of The Outsiders. I’m spread out on the floor of my bedroom with my dog, Bubbles, running my hand through her soft belly fur and wondering if we have any pudding cups in the pantry. Also wondering if Mack will notice if I slip out for a few minutes. Probably. I’ve tried in the past. “Elle, are you even listening?” he asks. “Of course. Always. I love this book.” “Lies. All lies.” Mack uses a ridiculous accent like he’s a vampire from Transylvania, when actually he’s a black, blind twelve-year-old kid from North Carolina. “Just keep reading.” I pull Bubbles into my lap. “Dude, I finished the chapter.” “Oh, good.” That means our language arts homework is done. Mack’s a good student. I’m a student. “Do you want to—” A loud knock interrupts me. Bubbles jumps up, barks once, and then hides under my bed.”
― Stacy McAnulty, The World Ends in April

“FABULOUS!”
― Heather Vogel Frederick, Wish You Were Eyre

“After all, best friends are the ones who can just hang out and be real without having to say a word.”
― Marcus Emerson, Spirit Week Shenanigans