I guess I like things that take time and attention. More worthwhile that way.
Right. Because if you have trouble putting ketchup and mustard on a hot dog, you should totally move on to saving lives.
When I turn back to Jase, he’s again beaming at me. “You’re nice.” He sounds pleased, as if he hadn’t expected this aspect of my personality.
I finally get that sometimes we hold on to something - a person, a resentment, a regret, an idea of who we are - because we don't know what to reach for next. That what we've done before is what we have to do again. That there are only re-dos and no do-overs. And maybe ... maybe I know better than that.
I scoop a clattering cascade of green apple Jelly Bellys into the white paper bag and remember when we were seven. I got stung by a jellyfish. Tim cried because his mother, and mine, wouldn’t let him pee on my leg, which he’d heard was an antidote to the sting.
No bikinis on a first date.” He nods. “I’m sure that’s a rule. Or should be. For my sisters anyway.
This is Sailor Supergirl,” George says. “She knows all about black holes.