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“The truth doesn’t matter,’ Pip said, digging her nails into her thigh. The Pip from last year wouldn’t recognize this one today. That lively-eyed girl and her school project, naïvely clinging to the truth, wrapping it around herself like a blanket. But the Pip sitting here was a different person and she knew better. The truth had burned her too many times; it couldn’t be trusted” — Holly Jackson
The truth doesn’t matter,’ Pip said, digging her nails into her thigh. The Pip from last year wouldn’t recognize this one today. That lively-eyed girl and her school project, naïvely clinging to the truth, wrapping it around herself like a blanket. But the Pip sitting here was a different person and she knew better. The truth had burned her too many times; it couldn’t be trusted