Growing Up Means :propelling Yourself Forward Into

Writing A Novel Is Like Childbirth: Once You Realize How Awful It Really Is, You Never Want To Do It Again.

So Finally, I Decided That The Best Response — The Safest — Was None At All.

"you Ready To Play?" Dave Asked, Bouncing It. "i Don't Know," I Said. "are You Going To Cheat?" "it's Street Ball!" He Said Checking It To Me. "show Me That Love." So Chessy, I Thought. But As I Felt It, Solid Against My Hands, I Did Feel Something. I Wasn't Sure It Was Love. Maybe What Remained Of It, Though, Whatever That Might Be. "all Right," I Said. "let's Play."

Like I, Of All People, Didn't Know Better Than To Lead A Total Stranger To The Point Where They Could Hurt Me Most, Knowing How Easily They'd Be Able To Find Their Way Back To It.

Fine...a Word That You Said When Someone Asked How You Were But Didn't Really Care To Know The Truth.