Next Time We See You, You’ll Be

I've Never Done Acid, Finding It Hard To Go Willingly To A Place That Could Be Frightening, Hellish, And Totally Beyond My Control. A Place Much Like High School.

You And I, We Must Carry On, Gemma. I Cannot Afford The Luxury Of Love. I Must Marry Well. And Now I Must Look After You. It Is My Duty." "if You Wish To Suffer, You Do So Of Your Own Free Will, Not On My Behalf. Or Father's Or Grandmama's Or Anyone's. You Are A Fine Physician, Thomas. Why Is That Not Enough?" "because It Isn't," He Says With A Rare Candor. "only This And The Hope Of Nothing More? A Quiet Respectability With No True Greatness Or Heroism In It, With Only My Reputation To Recommend Me. So You See, Gemma, You Are Not The Only One Who Cannot Rule Her Own Life.

Just Once, She'd Like To Be The Exciting One, The Girl Somebody Wanted.

No One Had Ever Said Anything Like That To Evie. Her Parents Always Wanted To Advise Or Instruct Or Command. They Were Good People, But They Needed The World To Bend To Them, To Fit Into Their Order Of Things. Evie Had Never Really Quite Fit, And When She Tried, She’d Just Pop Back Out, Like A Doll Squeezed Into A Too-small Box.

There Was Something About The Island That Made The Girls Forget Who They Had Been. All Those Rules And Shalt Nots. They Were No Longer Waiting For Some Arbitrary Grade. They Were No Longer Performing. Waiting. Hoping. They Were Becoming. They Were.