Adam Cesare

Her tone was why people thought she was such a bitch. Her tone and that she kind of was.

Janet was annoyed that someone in their group had open-invited everyone. Tonight should have been their night, just the six of them—seven if you counted Victoria (Janet didn’t)

Replacing the furniture had been another opportunity to start fresh that her dad had ignored

her dad was a doctor and the cost of living out here was—he insisted—unbelievably cheap. But even if it weren’t, she’d rather eat rice and beans for a month than live with musty relics of their past life.

For Quinn that was the sole appeal to leaving Philadelphia:
a new beginning. Or, if not a new beginning, a place she could detox for a year, recuperate before applying to Penn or Temple or any of the Philly-area colleges.

With enough work and love, you could save anything

With enough work and love, you could save anything.

Well, almost anything.

It sucked, but the friends were bound to drift apart. She loved Tessa and Jace, but their joke felt too true; soon enough, Quinn would be dead to them

Everything in this house seemed to creak. And all the creaks meant there would be no hiding from her dad. No staying up late and pacing, picking at her homework until dawn. Which sucked, because that was her process.

It was all a matter of how she chose to look at it. Perspective