"The gray of outside is inside. Inside the living room. Inside the chest. Inside me. It's so gray that turning on a lamp is too sharp and it hurts.So the lamps are off. But it's still to bright. It should be black inside and that's what I want so I put my head under the sofa cushion where the green plaid fabric smells like Dad's sweat and Devon's socks and my popcorn and the cushion feels soft and heavy on my head and I push deeper so my shoulders and chest can get under it too and there's a weight onme that holds me down and keeps me from floating and falling and floating and falling like the bird." (Chapter 1, p.2-3)

"I turn back toward the facial expressions chart. I wonder how Mrs. Brook knows what she's feeling right now. And I wonder if I've done...