Bill suited the action to the word, getting up and leaning over the handlebars and pumping the pedals at a lunatic rate. Looking at Bill's back, which was amazingly broad for a boy of eleven-going-on-twelve, watching it work under the duffel coat, the shoulders slanting first one way and then the other as he shifted his weight from one pedal to the other, Richie suddenly became sure that they were invulnerable...they would live forever and ever.

It wasn__ that she necessarily wanted to __ocialize_ at the bonfire, but she wanted to broadcast to the general population that her antisocial behavior was a personal choice not a sentence to social leprosy.

What if just you and I hung out, like last summer?" Nick sat up and began twirling a lock of my wet hair around his finger. "Josh never needs to know.

I jolt up, a scream lodged in my throat. Drops of sweat roll down my forehead and my throat hurts as if I've been screaming for a long time.

How did pretty little Anna go from Westchester suburb brat to New York hooker? Now that__ a story.

If it is possible to die of grief then why on earth can't someone be healed by happiness?