“Maybe this would be the part of the movie where we’d go back in time to see how it all happened. That’s called a flashback. Like I open the door to Theater 1, take a step into the darkness, and my whole life spins out before my eyes: being born, first word, first step, that time with Taylor and the Play-Doh, that time on the jungle gym when I almost broke my arm, learning to snowboard up on Hunter Mountain, learning—fine, failing—to play bass guitar, first kiss (practice), first kiss (clumsy but real), that time I held Maya’s ankles when she did sit-ups, that time she held mine, that time I tripped over my shoelaces outside the school library first week of seventh grade and fell flat on my face and everyone laughed and I wish I could forget it but I can’t, that time my best friend moved away, that time I found out someone was lying and that someone was my dad.” —page 29

In reality, I did once trip over my shoelaces in front of everyone in school and fall flat on my face—but they were boot-laces, and it wasn’t seventh grade, it was ninth. Worse: I was the new girl at school and I think it was the first week. I still can’t forget it, obviously.