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We all know the sound a camera makes when it snaps a picture. Even some of the digitals do it for nostalgia’s sake.

Jay Asher

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Jay Asher
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: September 30
Novelist
Writer
Arcadia
California
Sake
Sound
Makes
Even
Snaps
Nostalgia
Camera
Cameras
Picture

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I decided to find out how people at school might react if one of the students never came back.
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You told me I wrote that poem because I was afraid of dealing with myself. And I used my mom as an excuse, accusing her of not appreciating or accepting me, when I should have been saying those words into a mirror.
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I hate not knowing what to believe anymore. I hate not knowing what's real.
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It was love because it was worth it.
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I simply wanted a kiss. I was a freshman girl who had never been kissed. Never. But I liked the boy, he liked me, and I was going to kiss him. That's the story, the whole story, right there.
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And after I dropped him off, I took the longest possible route home... I explored alleys and hidden roads I never knew existed. I discovered neighborhoods entirely new to me. And finally... I discovered I was sick of this town and everything in it.
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What the hell happened to Pluto?!
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If I had a chance with him, I missed it. No, I didn't miss it. I threw it away.
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That’s when I said it. That’s when I whispered to her, “I’m so sorry.” Because inside, I felt so happy and sad at the same time. Sad that it took me so long to get there. But happy that we got there together.
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A lot of you cared, just not enough.
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And what if in the future we're at war again, or we still haven't elected a non-white or non-male president, or the Rolling Stones are still dragging their tired old butts on stage? That would depress me way too much.
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Everything seemed good, but I knew it had the potential to be awful.
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But sometimes there’s nothing left to do but move on.
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I don't know exactly what it is, but it looks like interconnected websites where people show their photos and write about everything going on in their lives, like whether they found a parking spot or what they ate for breakfast. But why? Josh asks.
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When you try rescuing someone and discover they can't be reached, why would you ever throw that back in their face?
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I take a slow sip of lukewarm coffee, reopen the book, and read the words scribbled in red ink near the top: Everyone needs an olly-olly-oxen-free.
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