I love vacations but it’s a relief when you give up and get to go home.
I lose track of stuff when I have to sit in the middle of the backseat since we left early this morning and it must be almost sunset now.
When you’re eleven maybe it would be wiser not to tell people how you feel. Especially not your mother. Who’s a big snitch.
When is a secret not a secret? When you know what it is. In a similar way, when is adulthood no big deal anymore? When you’re an adult.
How I Rose To The Occasion.
I was glad now to be in a top bunk and not near a window, not near the door,lying, silent, one knee-hugging shiver,calculating how high a werewolf could jump.
“I’ll work the spotlight. You can go first!”
War, that’s a game. But you can only play it in the summer and you can only play it after dark or, almost after dark.
I don’t remember who you were—forget too whose idea it was or if you dared me to, because afterwards we both pretended it never happened, we’d never been dumb-enough-to-do-it dumb.
I’ll probably be skinny until my older brother leaves home.
Early on, and always a mystery to me, my gift of aggravating people.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”
Proof I come from a line of clowns and stupid-stunt men.
Do you know what soap tastes like?
Who made the pizza???
I remember being in my glory, as a kid, when I was obviously sick.