I was wearing old jeans, which had once been tight but now sagged in weird places, and a yellow T-shirt advertising a band I didn’t even like anymore.Īlso my hair: I had this pageboy haircut, and I hadn’t even bothered to, like, brush it. I looked away, suddenly conscious of my myriad insufficiencies. He looked my age, maybe a year older, and he sat with his tailbone against the edge of the chair, his posture aggressively poor, one hand half in a pocket of dark jeans. Long and leanly muscular, he dwarfed the molded plastic elementary school chair he was sitting in. I was quite sure I’d never seen him before. I grabbed a cookie and poured some lemonade into a Dixie cup and then turned around. I didn’t want to take the elevator because taking the elevator is a Last Days kind of activity at Support Group, so I took the stairs. “Make friends!” she said through the rolled-down window as I walked away. The contraption was necessary because my lungs sucked at being lungs.
THE FAULT IN OUR STARS BOOK FOR FREE FREE
It delivered two liters of oxygen to me each minute through a cannula, a transparent tube that split just beneath my neck, wrapped behind my ears, and then reunited in my nostrils. CHAPTER ONE Late in the winter of my seventeenth year, my mother decided I was depressed, presumably because I rarely left the house, spent quite a lot of time in bed, read the same book over and over, ate infrequently, and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to thinking about death.
The cylindrical green tank only weighed a few pounds, and I had this little steel cart to wheel it around behind me. I pretended to fiddle with my oxygen tank for a second just to kill time. Mom pulled into the circular driveway behind the church at 4:56. There is only one thing in this world shittier than biting it from cancer when you’re sixteen, and that’s having a kid who bites it from cancer. I went to Support Group for the same reason that I’d once allowed nurses with a mere eighteen months of graduate education to poison me with exotically named chemicals: I wanted to make my parents happy. Still, I agreed to go-after negotiating the right to record the 1.5 episodes of ANTM I’d be missing. Lockhart, 1 bestselling author of We Were Liars. John Green is one of the best writers alive. The beloved, 1 global bestseller by John Green, author of The Anthropocene Reviewed and Turtles All the Way Down. That shut me up, although I failed to see how attendance at Support Group met the definition of life. Penguin, Young Adult Fiction - 336 pages. Every book that is provided in better way and utterance will be expected by many. Me: “See, that’s the kind of thing I’d know if you got me a fake ID.” Its significant to wait for the representative and beneficial books to read. Buy me a fake ID so I can go to clubs, drink vodka, and take pot.” Me: “If you want me to be a teenager, don’t send me to Support Group. You need to make friends, get out of the house, and live your life.”