just aaryn

“She means," Nate said, turning away from the books, "That David has gone full weird."
"He was always that way<' Janelle said in a low voice.
"Yeah, but now he's completed his journey. Our little caterpillar has turned into a freaky butterfly."
"Tell her about the screaming," Janelle said. "Because I can't."
"The screaming? Stevie repeated.
"The other morning he started something called 'screaming meditation'," Nate said. "Guess what happens in screaming meditation? Did you guess screaming? For fifteen minutes? Because that's what happens in screaming meditation. Fifteen. Minutes. Outside. At five in the morning. Do you know what happens when someone screams outside for fifteen minutes at five in the morning at a remote location in the mountains, especially after a . . ."
The implied dot dot dot was "student dies in a terrible accident or maybe murder and another one goes missing."
"When security got to him he claimed it was his new religion and that it is something he needs to do every morning now as a way to talk to the sun."
So this is what Edward King had been referring to.
"Sometimes," Nate went on, tapping the books into place so that the spines lined up perfectly, "he sleeps on the roof. Or somewhere else. Sometimes the green."
"Naked," Janelle added. "He sleeps on the green naked."
"Or in classrooms," Nate said. "Someone said they went into differential equations and he was asleep in the corner of the room under a Pokémon comforter."
"Your boy has not been well," Janelle said.”
― Maureen Johnson, The Vanishing Stair

“You probably don't like snow, right?'

'Oh, I like it,' Nate said. 'Snow makes it socially acceptable to stay in.”
― Maureen Johnson, The Vanishing Stair

“Because life is only happy when it’s shared.”
― Penelope Douglas, Credence

“Rain is passion. It’s a scream. It’s my hair sticking to my face as I wrap my arms around him. It’s spontaneous, and it’s loud.

Snowfall is like a secret. It’s whispers and firelight and searching for his warmth between the sheets at two a.m. when the rest of the house is asleep.”
― Penelope Douglas, Credence