I Will Never, Ever Drink Whiskey Again.

The Man In The Shop Peered Disapprovingly At Evie Through The Glass. She Pumped Her Arms And Legs Up And Down In Imitation Of A Marching Band, Gave The Man A Salute, And Continued Her Meandering Walk To The Museum.

Evie Didn’t Mind Yelling, But She Hated Feeling Judged. It Got Under Her Skin And Made Her Feel Small And Ugly And Unfixable.

There Was Something About The Island That Made The Girls Forget Who They Had Been. All Those Rules And Shalt Nots. They Were No Longer Waiting For Some Arbitrary Grade. They Were No Longer Performing. Waiting. Hoping. They Were Becoming. They Were.

Why Does Everyone Want To Own Me?" Pippa Mumbles. She's Got Her Head In Her Hands. "why Do They All Want To Control My Life -- How I Look, Whom I See, What I Do Or Don't Do? Why Can't They Just Let Me Alone?" "because You're Beautiful," Ann Answers, Watching The Fire Lick Her Palm. "people Always Think They Can Own Beautiful Things.

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