Фанатка

“Seriously, why aren’t you on drugs?”
Cath walked past her out of the room. “Are you a licensed psychiatrist? Or do you just play one on TV?”
“I’m on drugs,” Reagan said. “They’re a beautiful thing.”

It had gotten easier to write on paper, though Cath still missed her keyboard.…
“I need to cut and paste,” she’d say to Nick.
“Next time,” he’d say, “bring scissors.”

“Do you want to kiss him?”
“I don’t want to kiss a stranger,” Cath would answer. “I’m not interested in lips out of context.”

The first time she saw Wren that week, at lunch with Courtney, all Cath could think was, So this is what you look like when you’re keeping a giant secret from me—exactly the same as usual.

He smiled at her. She needed to come up with more words for Levi’s smiles; he had too many of them. This one was a question.

And besides, Cath still wasn’t sure whether Nick was actually hot or whether he just projected hotness. Specifically in her direction.

They’d even gone to therapy together after their mom left. Which seemed weird, now that Cath thought about it. Especially considering how differently they’d reacted—Wren acting out, Cath acting in. (Violently, desperately in. Journey to the Center of the Earth in.)

You’re so helpless sometimes. It’s like watching a kitten with its head trapped in a Kleenex box.

“Who’s King Solomon?”
“It was your mother who wanted to raise you without religion.”
“She also thought you should raise us without a mother.”

“Maybe we should go on lots of double dates,” Cath said, “and then we can get married on the same day in a double ceremony, in matching dresses, and the four of us will light the unity candle all at the same time.”
“Pfft,” Levi said, “I’m picking out my own dress.”

You’ll be fine. The first few times you do it, you only get graded on attendance.

По будням мы стройные стервы, а на выходных - пьяные стервы

“I hate Frank Sinatra.”

“Come on, nobody hates Frank Sinatra.”

“He treated women like things.”

He was wearing all black — black jeans, black sweater, black leather work boots — and holding two Christmassy red cups

“Seriously,” Wren said, “you know what love feels like. I’ve read you describe it a thousand different ways.”

Cath pulled a face. “That’s different. That’s fantasy.

Иногда ты берешь человека за руку, чтобы убедиться, что еще жив.

Я бы хотел, чтобы этот поцелуй положил начало чему-то хорошему. А не стал концом.

Я даже не знаю, как ты обычно веселишься. Полагаю, отбеливаешь зубы. Или от скуки рубишь драконов…

Кэтер, ты когда-нибудь видела альпаку? Это самые очаровательные ламы на свете. Просто представь себе самую-самую милую ламу, а потом умножь результат на два. А какая у них шерсть! Не шерсть даже, а волокно, гипоаллергенное…

Ты не должен создавать магию. Ты и есть магия.