Quotes About Adolescence

I guess you could call me a late bloomer, but that implies that we're all on some predetermined blooming schedule, that there's a right or wrong way to be sixteen and in love with a boy.

What would that have felt like, to have a boy do something like that for me? In the whole history of my letters, of my liking boys, not once has a boy liked me back at the same time as I liked him. It was always me alone, longing after a boy, and that was fine, that was safe. But this is new. Or old. Old and new, because it's the first time I'm hearing it.

It's all so very high school. By that I mean it's ephemeral. Even this pain will be fleeting, finite.

Is she really old enough to have crushes on boys? I feel like she's too young for all that.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boys watching us. Elaine and I pretend not to notice, and I know that she's just as aware of the boys as I am. We're doing pretty well until the boys start to snicker, and even then we keep our cool. But then I hear the boys guffawing, and that is pretty hard to ignore.

of the corner of my eye, I see the boys watching us. Elaine and I pretend not to notice, and I know that she's just as aware of the boys as I am. We're doing pretty well until the boys start to snicker, and even then we keep our cool. But then I hear the boys guffawing, and that is pretty hard to ignore.

Jeremiah, though—he was my friend. He was nice to me. He was the kind of boy who still hugged his mother, still wanted to hold her hand even when he was technically too old for it. He wasn't embarrassed either. Jeremiah Fisher was too busy having fun to ever be embarrassed. I bet Jeremiah was more popular than Conrad at school. I bet the girls liked him better.

it again and again, as many times as my mother could stand. Just like Kim MacAfee before me, I wanted to wear mascara and

We didn't know what was ahead of us then. We were just two teenagers, looking up at the sky on a cold February night. So no, he didn't give me flowers or candy. He gave me the moon and the stars. Infinity.

Do you remember that time we played spin the bottle in my basement?" I nod. "I was nervous to kiss you, because I'd never kissed a girl before," he says, and picks up the glass of sweet tea again. He takes a swig, but there's no tea left, just ice. His eyes meet mine, and he grins. "All the guys gave me such a hard time afterward for whiffing it." "You didn't whiff it," I say.

In French class, I hear Emily Nussbaum whisper to Genevieve, "If it turns out she's preggo, do you think Kavinsky will pay for the abortion?" Genevieve whispers back, "No way. He's too cheap. Maybe half." And everyone laughs. My face burns in mortification. I want to scream at them, We didn't have sex! We are brisket!

It's disappointing, how little self-control boys have.

Every happy teenage girl is the same, while every unhappy teenage girl is miserable in her own special way.

Don't leave your teen with the choice between obediently toeing the line or acting like a lunatic to exert some level of control over life.

Nos conocimos en segundo de bachillerato. Desde ese tiempo fuimos novios.

I'd been thirteen, not stupid, though a lot of people confuse the two.

At fourteen you don't need sickness or death for tragedy.

I thought it was my job to give all the boys their first kiss.

Everything you listen to when you are 17 should be embarrassing, otherwise you are way too cool.

A thirteen-year-old is a kaleidoscope of different personalities, if not in most ways a mere figment of her own imagination. At that age, what and who you are depends largely on what book you happen to be reading at the moment.

Stupid kissing. Stupid roaming hands. Stupid boys.

I can talk to my dad like he's my manager, and put 'Dad' on the back burner. We've been doing it since I was 13.

We started "dating" when I was in the eighth grade, but our time together was always chaperoned. Dad would even listen in on my phone calls, and my mom would scream at him to stop.

When my dad returned to preaching, I thought we moved because God would tell my dad it was time to move. He studied to be an adolescent therapist, learning how to reach that brain. Because he was such a good storyteller, he could tug at the heart, too. He'd make people weep, holding up their hands as they listened to him share the Word in a way they had never heard. Even as a kid I could feel the energy of change in the room when my dad was working.