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by Jodi Picoult
p.6 "I'm thinking I need a career change. Some position with a little less stress… like an air traffic controller or the prime minister of Israel."
p.9 Gus lay on the sidewalk between a trio of teenagers with spiked green hear and a couple that was coming as close to sex as possible in a public venue.
p.59 "I had expected better of you and Emily," his mother said.
Well, that wasn't a surprise. Everyone always expected better of him and Emily, as if they all knew some grand plan that Emily and Chris did not. Sometimes Chris wished he could sneak a peek at the back of the book, so to speak, and see how it was all going to turn out, so that he wouldn't have to bother going through the motions.
p.84 Gus slid her hand beneath the waist of her husband's boxers. "Not a creature was stirring," she whispered. "Not even a mouse." She rolled on tope of him, her hand working between his legs. "Seems I found a creature after all." James grinned, breaking apart her kiss. He did not understand his good fortune, but Gus had given up her anger by the time he and Chris and returned home from hunting. Which was a good thing, given how abysmal an experience it had been. He felt Gus's fingers squeeze his testicles.
"Now," she murmured, "is not a good time to laugh at me."
"I wasn't laughing. I was just thinking."
Gus raised a brow. "About what?"
James laughed. "Santa Claus is coming," he said.
Gus snickered an sat up, unbuttoning her nightgown in a slow, sweet striptease. "What do you think," she said, "about unwrapping one of your presents tonight?"
"That depends," James said. "Is it a big one?"
"Say yes, buster, and it's the only present you're getting," Gus warned, tossing her nightgown off the bed.
James pulled her on top of him, running his hands over her back and buttocks. "How about that," he murmured. "It's just my size."
"Good," Gus gasped, as his fingers moved between her legs. "Because I wouldn't know where to return it."
p.96-97 After prolonged silence, the doctor tried again. "You must be very upset."
"I pretty much cry at the drop of a hat."
"Well," the psychiatrist said, "that's perfectly normal."
"Oh, right." Chris snorted. "Perfectly normal. I spent Friday night getting seventy stitches. My girlfriend is dead. I've been locked up in a psycho ward for three days and now I'm here, where I'm supposed to tell someone I don't even know everything that's on my mind. Yeah, I'm a perfectly normal seventeen-year-old."
p.97 The moment the elevator doors opened, Gus was fluttering all over her sun, slipping her arm about his waist and falling into step and chattering as she whisked him out of the medical building where Dr. Feinstein's office was located. "So," Gus said, the moment they settled into the car. "How did it go?"
There was no answer. Chris's head was turned away from her. "For starts," she said, did you like him?"
"Was this a blind date?" Chris muttered.
Gus pulled the car out of the lot, silently making excuses for him. "Is he a good phychiatrist?" she pressed.
Chris stared out the window. "As opposed to what?" he asked.
"Well… do you feel better?"
He turned to her slowly, pinned her with his eyes. "As opposed," he repeated, "to what?"
p.103 "I guess if I knew I was being true to myself, I'd want to believe that everyone would come around sooner or later to my way of thinking."
Chris snorted. "I bet all the witches in Salem were thinking that, too, when they smelled the smoke."
p.105 "And that's what I think love is," Chris said quietly. "When your hindsight's twenty-twenty, and you still wouldn't change a thing."
p.117 "And after all, what is a lie? 'Tis but the truth in masquerade." –Lord Byron Don Juan
"There is no refuge from confession but suicide; and suicide is confession." –Daniel Webster
p.133 It was felony day at the Grafton County Courthouse.
In a state as rural as New Hampshire, serious crimes were committed fairly infrequently, so the felony arraignments were gathered into bunches every few weeks. More interesting than petty infractions, the proceedings were attended by local reporters, court groupies, law students.
p.134 There were other women in here like her, Gus knew; women who might not have been wearing a designer suit or diamond studs like hers but who had a son who was going to be brought to that table like Chris was, accused of something too horrible to imagine. Some of those children had actually committed the crimes. In his, she supposed, she was lucky.
p.172 She liked the kissing.
In fact, if she could have gone back to just that, she would have. She liked opening her mouth against Chris's and having him fill it with his tongue, as if he was slipping her secrets. She liked the feeling his moan roll, candy-round and warm, into her own mouth. She especially like the way his big hands cradled her head, as if he could hold her thoughts together even when they started running off in directions she didn't want to explore.
p.184-185 Selena turned to Thomas. "What's gotten into him?"
"He got the discovery from the AG's office today." Thomas shook his head dolefully. "He needs a shoulder to cry on."
"I don't have soft shoulders, and I don't make a habit of getting it on with people who pay me," Selena said.
"I'm not paying you," Thomas pointed out.
"Good-bye, Thomas," Selena and Jordan chorused.
p.189 Chris sank down onto a plastic chair—plenty of room for it here, unlike the narrow catwalk in maximum security. Steve sat across from him and propped his feet on the table. "What do you think?"
Chris grinned. "That I'd sell my own grandmother to keep from being sent down to maximum again."
Steve laughed. "Yeah, well. Everything's relative." He reached on top of some lockers and pulled down two Milton Bradley boxes. "This is all they've got," he complained. "Someone set the Monopoly board on fire last month."
Chris laughed out loud. A room full of felons, and the only games were Sorry! And Risk.
p.199 Heath Education was mandatory for seniors, although most of them had been rolling their own condoms down actual penises for several years by the time they entered the class.
p.201 The second line came thin as a hairline fracture, and carried just as much pain. Emily doubled over, her hand unconsciously curled over her stomach, as she stared up at the packaging of the only test she'd ever wanted to fail.
p.204-205 Emily tossed a pebble into the lake, breaking the smooth surface. It was a strange feeling, knowing that her life would always be intertwined with Chris's—God, it had been since the day she was born—and yet realizing that she was still secretly hoping for an out. Everyone expected Chris and Emily to be together forever, but forever had always seemed a long way off.
She pressed her hand to her stomach. Forever had a real timeline now.
Emily supposed then, that the answer was yes. She could marry Chris. The alternative would be explaining that she cared about him like a sister, like a friend, not necessarily like a wife. And she would see his face whiten, feel his heart crumble in her hands.
She did not love Chris enough to marry him, but she loved him too much to tell him that.
p.247 "And ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation." – Kahlil Gibran The Prophet
"That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies;
That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought outright;
But a lie which is part a truth is a hard matter to fight." – Alfred, Lord Tennyson The Grandmother