A Little Less Girl Jake West Quotes

"He was my first horse. I got him when I was seven. We used to compete in local rodeos together. Even won some. Now he spends his days out in this field munching grass."

"It's a nice life," I said, "for a horse, I mean." I shrugged. "I guess for a seven-year-old boy too. I mean what kid doesn't want his own horse." (14.8, 10)

"We played the Game a month before Amy's death. It was the first time she'd been on the bus. She played and Blister was her partner, but he wasn't able to find her. I'd been the emcee, so I knew exactly where she was. I ran to get her, but the chair was empty. She was sitting nearby, untied, and crying. When I approached her, she ran up the road to her car and took off. We all convinced ourselves that she'd just freaked out being alone in the dark. But we never figured out how she'd untied herself, and she never spoke to any of us after that. The Game lost its sheen after that incident. Then she died and none of us played again." (22.13)

"Even with a popularity status that bordered on legendary, he kept his head and his cool. Everyone adored him. Then when rumor got around that he'd said something cruel about Amy's weight, and she'd started crash dieting, some of the shine came off his armor. He really beat himself up about it. Not because people didn't think as highly of him, but because he couldn't stand that he had caused her pain. Then when she died and the town decided it was because of him, his whole life took a nose dive. His grades crashed, he had no interest in swimming, there was even a point where he started soaking his brain with alcohol. The town had convinced him that he'd caused Amy to kill herself. Never mind that no one in town had given her the time of day before that, but they needed someone to blame. And it all fell on Jake's shoulders. Dermott was the worst. Jake had considered him a friend, but Dermott made him feel like crap about the whole thing. Slowly, the hurt he was feeling faded. He started coming around again. Then you arrived. It was like the whole guilt trip began again." (28.27)

"The girls put their names in a bag and each guy pulls out a name. The guy who picks the blank is the emcee. He takes the girls out into the forest, hides them, and ties them to a chair. Their eyes and mouths are covered. The guys then have to go out and find their partner, untie her, and carry her back to the bus. The last couple back loses the Game, and they must face the consequences."

Dani looked around at all the faces including mine. "Who on earth came up with that game?"

"Raynesville High kids have been doing it for years," Katrina piped up. "But then last year we stopped after—"

"Enough Katrina," I snapped. (21.8-11)

"Come on, Dude, the first meet means the first bonfire. It's tradition." Dani and Blister walked over just then.

"What's tradition?" Dani asked.

"We always have a bonfire at the bus after the first meet," Alex said.

Dani looked at me. "Sounds fun."

"I guess we don't want to break tradition," I said. (25.28-32)

I knew the question on her lips. Why'd you do it? I dragged my gaze from hers.

"It was five stupid words. Amy was never supposed to hear them." My thoughts finally broke free, words I'd wanted to say to Dani since she'd walked into class. "I had no idea she was behind me, or I never would have said it." My jaw clenched as I thought about that day. I'd been set up by my own friends. They knew Amy was standing nearby. "It was too late. She'd heard me and when I'd seen the hurt expression on her face, I'd wanted to throw my fist through a wall. It was one of those regretful moments in life you can't take back." (17.33-34)

"Maybe no one is responsible, Dani. Maybe it's just like the report said. Maybe she killed herself. Or maybe she fell asleep at the wheel. Or maybe a deer jumped in front of her. Maybe she was a crappy driver. Maybe you should stop obsessing about it." The words shot out like bullets and each one brought her closer to tears and now my chest ached more. (27.65)

My phone vibrated on the counter, and I picked it up. It was Jake. "How's it going?" he asked. It was just three simple, non-committal, non-romantic words, yet the sound of his deep voice made my knees weak.

"Everything is fine." I actually had to keep the tremble out of my voice. I'd never had this reaction to any guy, but after he'd kissed me in the hallway and again in the jeep when his lips had drifted over the scars on my face, I realized I'd lost my heart to the guy. (34.11-12)

The vase of dead flowers and the pathetically filthy toy polar bear lay crumpled and dirty on the roadside memorial. Right after the suicide, the road had been lined with flowers, balloons, and hand-drawn posters declaring how much everyone had loved Amy. It was all such bull. The same people had never given her the time of day when she was alive.

The scent of lime drifted up from the unattended memorial. Someone had visited the spot recently and had left a bowl of something green. There was a little sign next to the bowl that read "in case there's no lime Jell-O in heaven. Love D." I stared at the bizarre tribute for a second then headed home on foot. (1.3-4)

"But religion helps us to face our own mortality." I spoke to her like she was the only person in the room.

She stared at me through a curtain of razor cut bangs. "I agree. Religion is a wonderful pacifier for people who are afraid of death. Every religion—"

"We're all afraid of death," I interrupted.

Our eyes locked again. Then she pulled her gaze from mine and faced the front of the room. I fell back against my seat as if I had been released from a giant magnet.

Dermott glanced at me then his eyes fell on her. "Well, do you agree with him, Dani?"

"Yes, we're all afraid of death, but we all have different levels of acceptance." She paused. "Some people even search out death." She stopped and I could see her close her eyes for a second like she blinked back tears. (11.20-25)