Ann did detention like Whitney Houston did cocaine—frequently and without consideration of the consequences.

In high school, though, if you call someone out on their shit you get bullied. It’s really a horrible time in life. Honestly, I don’t even know why there is an entire genre of books dedicated to it.

In retrospect, I suppose it might be difficult to develop early as a girl. Guys talking to your chest rather than your face is one thing. Then you’re also surrounded by a bunch of girls with pre- adolescent bodies who wrongly think that no breasts and no ass are a good thing. Plus, if you own your sexuality at all as a teen girl you’re a slut with a capital S. God, I’m glad those days are over. Not like adulthood is void of sexist platitudes, it’s just easier to talk about. In high school, though, if you call someone out on their shit you get bullied. It’s really a horrible time in life. Honestly, I don’t even know why there is an entire genre of books dedicated to it.

I think it would be best if, when you’re having suicidal thoughts of stabbing yourself, that you try to think of rainbows instead.”
“Rainbows?” Ann said hugging a pillow.
“Yeah,” Lisa said, standing back to look at her wall art. “Ya know—happy, bright, refreshing, the calm after the storm, God’s gift to the earth.”
“Or the aliens’ gift,” Ann added.
“Course,” Lisa agreed. “Can’t rule that out.

I went to an all-girls school, and I always felt like I missed out on a traditional high-school life.

They looked to each other for support, for strength, and at times, motivation, to remember why and for whom they lived.