Remember, Heads High. Smiles. They're Going To

What About You?" "not A Clue. I Keep Wishing I Could Bake A Cake Or Something.

You Can’t Miss Your Schedule. Every Morning, You’re Supposed To Stick Your Right Arm In This Contraption In The Wall. It Tattoos The Smooth Inside Of Your Forearm With Your Schedule For The Day In A Sickly Purple Ink. 7:00—breakfast. 7:30—kitchen Duties. 8:30—education Center, Room 17. And So On. The Ink Is Indelible Until 22:00—bathing

Because I Can Count On My Fingers The Number Of Sunsets I Have Left, And I Don't Want To Miss Any Of Them.

The Woods Always Look Different At Night...as If The Daytime Trees And Flowers And Stones Had Gone To Bed And Sent Slightly More Ominous Versions Of Themselves To Take Their Places.

They're A Little Strange, But I'm Pretty Sure Neither Of Them Is Going To Try To Make Me Uncomfortable By Stripping Naked.