Quotes from Laurie Halse Anderson

I'm just tired and I can't sleep yet. A woman's work is never done, isn't that what the fools say?

There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs.

Finally, our own Devils hulk into the gym. The same boys who got detention in elementary school for beating the crap out of people are now rewarded for it. They call it football.

I'm feeling pretty damn good for a change.

I think the Merryweather cheerleaders confuse me because I missed out on Sunday School. It has to be a miracle. There is no other explanation. How else could they sleep with the football team on Saturday night and be reincarnated as virginal goddesses on Monday?

Set foot on the campus and it changes you forever. It's... He paused like he was searching for the right word, something I'd never seen him do before. It's Nerdvana! he finally declared.

Heather is not at school today. Everybody is griping about her lame decorations. I bet she calls in sick the rest of the year. Heather should run away and join the Marines immediately.

Mr Freeman: [...] When people don't express themselves, they die one piece at a time. You'd be shocked at how many adults are really dead inside - walking through their days with no idea who they are, just waiting for a heart attack or cancer or a Mack truck to come along and finish the job. It's the saddest thing I know.

I get hosed in Spanish. 'Linda' means 'pretty' in Spanish. This is a great joke. Mrs. Spanish Teacher calls my name. Some stand-up comic cracks, 'No, Melinda no es linda.' They call me Me-no-linda for the rest of the period. This is how terrorists get started, this kind of harmless fun. I wonder if it's not too late to transfer to German.

It is easier not to say anything. Shut your trap, button your lip, can it. All that crap you hear on TV about communication and expressing feelings is a lie. Nobody really wants to hear what you have to say.

I hide in the bathroom until I know Heather's bus has left. The salt in my tears feels good when it stings my lips. I wash my face in the sink until there is nothing left of it, no eyes, no nose, no mouth. A slick nothing.

I know my head isn't screwed on straight. I want to leave, transfer, warp myself to another galaxy. I want to confess everything, hand over the guilt and mistake and anger to someone else. There is a beast in my gut, I can hear it scraping away at the inside of my ribs. Even if I dump the memory, it will stay with me, staining me.

Afraid that my head might burst through the roof, I head for the mall. I have ten bucks in my pocket—what to spend it on? French fries—ten bucks' worth of french fries, ultimate fantasy.

They herd us into an assembly that is supposed to be a 'democratic forum' to come up with a new school mascot. Who are we? We can't be the Buccaneers because pirates supported violence and discrimination against women. The kid who suggests the Shoemakers in honor of the old moccasin factory is laughed out of the auditorium. Warriors insults Native Americans. I think Overbearing Eurocentric Patriarchs would be perfect, but I don't suggest it.

Sometimes I think high school is one long hazing activity: if you are tough enough to survive this, they'll let you become an adult. I hope it's worth it.

It wasn't my fault. ANd I'm not going to let it kill me. I can grow.

I am trapped with Andy Evans.

But that's the wrong question. Ask why everyone else is so pathetically stupid and why they're always whining about detention, I should get a medal for not slapping people in the face every day.

Detention does not sound appealing. I do my homework - choose five verbs and conjugate them. To translate: traducir. I traducate. To flunk: fracasar. Yo am almost fracasaring. To hide: esconder. To escape: escapar To forget: olvidar.

The winds of the desert have names. They feed on the bodies of broken children and rip out the beating hearts of men.

Halloween - the day when we could pretend to be whatever we wanted - seemed to be letting everyone be who they really were.

Nothing chases away the sand or the memories engraved on the back of my eyelids. They play on a continuous loop, with smells and sound and sorrow.

I am clanless. I wasted the last weeks of August watching bad cartoons. I didn't go to the mall, the lake, or the pool, or answer the phone. I have entered high school with the wrong hair, the wrong clothes, the wrong attitude. And I don't have anyone to sit with. I am Outcast.

She's packing at least five grand worth of orthodontia, but has great shoes.