Title-Pictures Of Hollis Woods

Giff, Patricia Reilly - 2002

"This is my ocean," Josie said, as if it belonged to her personally, like one of her hats.

She turned on the lights, poured a pile of corn and a cup of what looked like parsley into the popcorn machine, then sat back on a high stool behind the counter.

Josie pointed up. "Beatrice lives upstairs. Her apartment takes up the whole top. It's like a bowling alley."

It was as if the angry Hollis were sleeping right out of my bones, leaving chocolate as soft as that sticky Hershey bar.

"How old are you anyway?" Steven asked, his eyes caramel behind his glasses. "You look like kind of a shrimp to me."

I had been on that bus for hours. It seemed like weeks.

I gathered up my backpack and the plastic bag they had given me: a toothbrush, a bar of soap that smelled like an old sock, a pink washcloth, and a book for drooling two-year-olds, Kelly goes to camp.

How about W fo wish, or W for want, or W for "wouldn't it be loverly." like the song the music teacher had taught us?

Page last modified on October 02, 2006, at 10:56 AM

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But not a Trojan there, not one of all the allies, could produce him for the wargod’s friend, Menelaos – and none for love would ever hide him if he saw him, the man being abhorred like death itself.
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