E. Lockhart

Gat hasn’t quite looked at me, though.

I can’t stop looking at him.

I am so angry. And so happy to see him.

I don’t know how to talk to him.

I love him.

He’s been an ass.

“What happened to the little blond girls who used to run around this place?”

Mummy sighs. “We grew up, Dad,” she says. “We grew up.”

Mirren pauses. Then she says: “Be a little kinder than you have to.”

We are all silenced by that. It seems impossible to argue with.

Then Johnny says, “Never eat anything bigger than your ass.”

“You know what’s terrifying?” Gat says, not looking at me. “What’s terrifying is he’s turned out to be right.”

If you want to live where people are not afraid of mice, you must give up living in palaces.

Now, at the breakfast table, watching him eat my toast, “Don’t take no for an answer” seemed like the attitude of a privileged guy who didn’t care who got hurt, so long as his wife had the cute statues she wanted to display in her summerhouses.

For Cady with everything, everything. Gat.

WELCOME TO THE beautiful Sinclair family.

No one is a criminal.

No one is an addict.

No one is a failure.

The Sinclairs are athletic, tall, and handsome. We are old-money Democrats. Our smiles are wide, our chins square, and our tennis serves aggressive.