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Quote by Sarah Rees Brennan

“We have to stop,” Harvard said, abrupt and desperate. “Wait, why?” Aiden murmured, reaching to drag Harvard back when Harvard pulled away, barely seeming to understand the words Harvard had spoken. “I don’t want to. You said you didn’t want to…” He trailed off, hands still grasping Harvard’s shirt, exerting pressure to bring Harvard back where he had been. Aiden’s eyes were heavy-lidded, almost as if he was drowsy, but it was an electric drowsiness. For a terrifying moment, Harvard looked at Aiden and couldn’t remember why they should stop. Then he looked at Aiden and did remember. “I don’t want to, but we have to,” Harvard tried to explain. Aiden looked suddenly wide awake and affronted to be so, like a cat disturbed from his rest. His voice as sharp this time as it had been soft before, he said, “Why?” When Aiden had agreed to help Harvard with practice dating, Harvard remembered vividly the exact words he’d used. I know how dating works. It doesn’t matter, and this wouldn’t even be real dating. It doesn’t mean anything. It won’t change anything. He looked at Aiden, his chest feeling cold and empty, bleak with despair. Harvard was just like all the rest of Aiden’s guys, only worse. He was the one who really knew Aiden, and he should know better. Harvard said, “Because this means nothing.”

Quote by Sarah Rees Brennan

Work

Striking Distance

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Author

Sarah Rees Brennan
Sarah Rees Brennan

Sarah Rees Brennan, born on September 21, 1983, is a talented writer whose works span various literary genres, including fantasy, horror, and young adult fiction. She is known for her unique narrative style and profound portrayal of complex character relationships. more

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“Dear Lord," he said, "let me be like Aron. Don’t make me mean. I don’t want to be. If you will let everybody like me, why, I’ll give you anything in the world, and if I haven’t got it, why, I’ll go for to get it. I don’t want to be mean. I don’t want to be lonely. For Jesus’ sake, Amen.” Slow warm tears were running down his cheeks. His muscles were tight and he fought against making any crying sound or sniffle. Aron whispered from his pillow in the dark, "You're cold. You've got a chill." He stretched out his hand to Cal's arm and felt the goose bumps there. He asked softly, "Did Uncle Charles have any money?" "No," said Cal. "Well, you were out there long enough. What did Father want to talk about?" Cal lay still, trying to control his breathing. "Don't you want to tell me?" Aron asked. "I don't care if you don't tell me." "I'll tell," Cal whispered. He turned on his side so that his back was toward his brother. "Father is going to send a wreath to our mother. A great big goddam wreath of carnations." Aron half sat up in bed and asked excitedly, "He is? How's he going to get it clear there?" "On the train. Don't talk so loud." Aron dropped back to a whisper. "But how's it going to keep fresh?" "With ice," said Cal. "They're going to pack ice all around it." Aron asked, "Won't it take a lot of ice?" "A whole hell of a lot of ice," said Cal. "Go to sleep now." Aron was silent, and then he said, "I hope it gets there fresh and nice." "It will," said Cal. And in his mind he cried, "Don't let me be mean.”