Wendelin Van Draanen /ˈwɛndəlɪn væn ˈdrɑːnən/ (born January 6, 1965) is an American writer of children's and young-adult fiction.
Bryce," she whispers. "What's wrong. " I can barely breathe as I ask her, "Do you like him?" "Do I. . . you mean Jon?" "Yes!" "Well, sure. He's nice and -" "No, do you like him?" My heart was pounding through my chest as I took her other hand and waited. "Well, no. I mean, not like that. . . . " No! She said no! I didn't care where I was, I didn't care who saw. I wanted, just had to kiss her. I leaned in, closed my eyes, and then. . .
He tells us that life isn't about what happens to you, it's about what you do about what happens to you.
I am a runner. That's what I do. That's who I am. Running is all I know, or want, or care about.
Get beyond his eyes and his smile and the sheen of his hair - look at what's really there.
What he did to my heart was sheer, inexplicable, magic.
I wipe away my tears and nod, because the pain in my leg is nothing compare to the one in my heart.
My grandfather stood beside me and looked across the street, too. "No, Bryce," he said softly. "She's the same as she's always been; you're the one who's changed. " He clapped his hand on my shoulder and whispered, "And son, from here on out, you'll never be the same again.
Don't sum up a person based on what you see, or what you don't understand; get to know them
Then I saw Juli. She was two tables away from me, facing my direction. Only she wasn't looking at me. She was looking at Jon, her eyes all sparkly and laughing. My heart lurched. What was she laughing about? What were they talking about? How could she sit there and look so. . . beautiful? I felt myself spinning out of control. It was weird. Like I couldn't even steer my own body. I'd always thought Jon was pretty cool, but right then I wanted to go over and throw him across the room.
I write early in the morning at the computer, and people think Im crazy, but I still use my Mac-Classic even though we have a state-of-the-art PC. There are just less distractions with the simpler machine.
And now I was seeing that there was something really cool about that family. All of them. They were just. . . real. And who were we? There was something spinning wickedly out of control inside this house. It was like seeing inside the Baker's world had opened up windows into our own, and the view was not a pretty one. Where had all this stuff come from? And why hadn't I ever seen it before.
Blue Face Disgusting taste Flush it Shush it Cold disgrace
You got nothin' to lose but your self-respect.
Sometimes the things we really want are right in front of us. We just don't see them.
Holly, I understand that you are upset because Gemma pulled down your ants, but why did you think pouring motor oil inside her backpack is the way to solve the problem?
But in my heart I knew that just like the new grass, I wasn't strong enough yet to be walked on
I had liked him for all the wrong reasons.
I miss school. What’s wrong with me?
Sometimes a little discomfort in the beginning can save a whole lot of pain down the road.
If chaos is a necessary step in the organization of one's universe, then I was well on my way.