Holly Jackson Quotes

Real men wear floral when trespassing

The people you love weren’t algebra: to be calculated, subtracted, or held at arm’s length across a decimal point.

But sometimes remembering isn’t for yourself, sometimes you do it just to make someone else smile. Those lies were allowed.

Hey Sarge, remember me?

I'm not sure I'm the good girl i once thought i was . I've lost her along the way

women can be just as dangerous as men.

Pip wished she was strong enough, but she’d learned that she wasn’t invincible; she too could break.

But sometimes my mouth starts saying words without checking with my brain first.

I’m irrationally serious.” Pip smiled, holding the Tupperware out to him. “And I made muffins.” “Like bribery muffins?” “That’s what the recipe said, yeah.

He smiled, put his hands on the back of her neck, fingers in her hair, and leaned in to press his forehead against hers. He’d told her before that he did it to take away half her sadness, half her headache, half her nerves before her Columbia interview. Because half less of a bad thing meant there was room for half good.

I’ve already learned my lesson here: when you catch someone lying about a murdered girl, you go ask them why.

They were each other’s crutch to lean on when life got too much to carry alone.

Your efficiency offends me.

Some people are pretty good at hiding who they really are.

And, finally, to all the girls who’ve ever been doubted or not believed. I know how that feels. These books are for all of you.

He kissed her, and she glowed with that feeling. The one with wings. “You bring the rain down on them, Pip.” “I will.

Who will look for you when you’re the one who disappears?

We’re a team, remember. You and me.

She wanted to go back. SHe wanted to run to him, fall into him, be Team Ravi and Pip and nothing more. Tell him she loved him in all the secret ways they had, hear him speak all those names he had for her in his butter-soft voice.

But sometimes remembering isn’t for yourself, sometimes you do it just to make someone else smile.

I think we all get to decide what good and bad and right and wrong mean to us, not what we’re told to accept.

As if they think I don’t already know. I came out of the womb knowing how to do academic references.

What do you do when the things that are supposed to protect you, fail you like that

But justice doesn’t exist, and the truth doesn’t matter, not in the real world.

I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to protect you. I’m sorry I never got to tell you. I’m sorry I never kissed you.

And in the dead silence of the night, Pip whispered, “Who’s taking the picture?

Are we squad goals?” Ravi whispered to Pip. Cara heard and snorted.

Microwave him.

if it's a choice between me and you, i choose you

You're my person. My little one. My Sarge. And I'm supposed to protect you.

What if I said you were the right people, in the right place at exactly the right time.

Maybe laughter was one of the very first things you lost after something like that.

He's innocent

You're Pippa Fricking Fitz-Amo-bi. My little Sarge. Pippus Maximus, and there's nothing you can't do.

She still spoke to Ravi every day. Not the real one, the one who lived in her head. She spoke to him when she was scared or unsure, asked him what he would do if he were there. He sat beside her when she was lonely, and she was always lonely, looking at old photos on her phone. He told her goodnight and kept her company in the dark while she learned how to sleep again.

Because half less of a bad thing meant there was room for half good.

I still think this is reckless and I’m crapping myself, but –’ he paused, flashing her a small smile – ‘we’re partners in crime after all. That means partners no matter what.

One sniper. One gun. One red dot. And one liar.

What's wrong with me? ... I might seem like the ideal student: homework always in early, every extra credit and extra curricular I can get my hands on, the good girl and the high achiever. But I realized something just now: it's not ambition, not entirely. It's fear. Because I don't know who I am when I'm not working, when I'm not focused on or totally consumed by a task. Who am I between the projects and the assignments, when there's nothing to do? I haven't found her yet and it scares me. Maybe that's why, for my senior capstone project this year, I decided to solve a murder.

Pip knew a great many things; she knew that hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia was the technical term for the fear of long words, she knew that babies were born without kneecaps,

Shewasgoingtodieshewasgoingtodieshewasdeadshewasdeadshewasgoingtodie

Fuck likeable. You know who's likeable? People like Max Hastings who walk into a courtroom with fake glasses and charm their way out. I don't want to be like that.

It was in nightmares, and crashing pans, and heavy breaths, and dropped pencils, and thunderstorms, and closing doors, and too loud, and too quiet, and alone and not, and the ruffle of pages, and the tapping of keys and every click and every creak. The gun was always there. It lived inside her now.

Our dad killed your boyfriend's older brother and kept a girl in his loft for five years. You have yourself two experts at acting normal.

Real men wear floral when trespassing.

She was on a high cliff edge somewhere between laughing and crying and screaming.

...it’s hard to climb back out of the hole once you’ve dug in your heels.

Yeah, that sniper won’t know what’s hit him when I slowly charge at him with my Gillette razor.

Time is in charge here, not me, and that's terrifying

Hello, pickle!” her dad said loudly as Pip and Cara made their way downstairs. “Lauren and I have decided that I should come to your kilometer party too.” “Calamity, Dad. And over my dead brain cells.

Pip looked back, over her shoulder, through the trees. Ravi was on his knees in the leaves, face hidden, bawling into his hands. It hurt more than anything, to see him that way, and her chest opened up, reaching out to him, trying to drive her back. Hold him, take the hurt away and let him take hers.

You go around asking dangerous questions, girl, you’re going to find some dangerous answers.

The people who loved you, the ones who really cared, they would always come back. Sometimes, they even came back from the dead.

You’ve lost your mind,’ he sneered.‘Maybe. So you should be terrified.

A quietness settled over the room, a quietness that wasn’t the absence of sound, it was its own living thing, stifling in the spaces between them.

Ravi hated her, but he would be safe now.

Can you stop bleeding all over the murder board, please

Rom-coms or films where boys get violently murdered?

The people you love weren’t calculated, subtracted, or held at arm’s length across a decimal point. Victor was her dad, who’d raised her since she was four years old, and Josh was her annoying little brother.

Hey, Nat, do you think it's at all possible that your brother is a serial killer? Yes, I know, I have a history of accusing you and your family members of murder.

time? An impossible contradiction that she would never settle. It was her undoing, her fatal flaw, the hill she would die and decay on.

you couldn’t help yourself, i’m ravishing. get it? ravi-shing. ravi singh.

The game had changed.Her against them.Save herself to save herself.

This was the absolute worst way to die. Mid-squat-pissing behind a tree while Maddy’s axe-murderer charged at her from the front. Dignified till the

Would it hurt, or would it feel like relief, when the bullet finally split her open?

We're partners in crime after all. That means partners no matter what.

Yes she did,’ Red said, straightening up to look Oliver in the eye. ‘She did all of it. And I hope she dies on her knees, scared and alone, like she did to my mom.

Pit bull,” Pip said. “It’s pit bulls that don’t let things go.

Hi," Pip said. "I'm Pip." "H-Hi," she said. "I'm Andie." But she wasn't

Hey Sarge, remember me? ~Ravi Singh

You are the maximum amount of Pipness that any Pip could be. The Ultra-Pip. I’m going to introduce you to my family this weekend as Pippus Maximus

While some people might work in their bedrooms, I sleep in my workstation. It's very different.

Is it normal for one person to have this many enemies? I’m the problem, aren’t I?How did it get so late already?I understand why they all hate me.I might hate me too.

Or, even worse, calling Sal a monster. It’s interesting to compare your reporting about Sal to your recent articles on the Stratford Strangler. He murdered five people and pleaded guilty, yet in your headline you referred to him as a “lovesick young man.” Is that because he’s white?

She hadn’t almost lost herself, maybe she’d actually been meeting herself for the very first time. And she was tired of feeling guilty about it. Tired of feeling shame about who she was.

It’s just...’ he drew off, his voice guttering out. ‘It’s scary, to know that someone might want to hurt you, or make you scared. You’re my person. My little one. My Sarge. And I’m supposed to protect you.’ ‘You do protect me,’ she said, holding his eyes. ‘Even when you’re not here.’ He was her life raft, her cornerstone for what good truly meant. Didn’t he know that?

I wish someone like you had been there for me," Becca cried.

because everybody left eventually, but it hurt less. That was what life was, choosing the way that hurt less.

I found these statistics: 80% of missing people are found in the first twenty-four hours. 97% are found in the first week, and 99% of cases are resolved in the first year. That leaves just 1%. 1% of people who disappear are never found. And just 0.25% of all missing persons cases have a fatal outcome.

Oh, justice exists," Charlie said, looking up at the rain. "Maybe not the kind that happens in police stations and courtrooms, but it does exist. And when you really think about it, those words – good and bad, right and wrong – they don’t really matter in the real world. Who gets to decide what they mean: those people who just got it wrong and let Max walk free? No," he shook his head. "I think we all get to decide what good and bad and right and wrong mean to us, not what we’re told to accept. You did nothing wrong. Don’t beat yourself up for other people’s mistakes.

When the police won’t do anything, I guess you’ve gotta turn to high schoolers instead.

What are you, the tequila guardian?’ He pointed at her. ‘Right, because I’m Mexican?

You're okay,' Red told her, because Maddy had said it to her before, and maybe it was just the thing you said to people who weren't okay.

How did everything go with you?” Pip asked, leaning forward to press her forehead against his, in the way he always did to her. To take on half her headaches, or half her nerves, he said.

Oh, cool,’ Simon said, between bites. ‘Didn’t know the Mafia was still a thing, I love The Godfather. “Revenge is a dish best served cold,”’ he said in a dreadful Italian American accent.

Jason Bell was dead, but he wasn’t dead yet; he would be in a few hours. And Max Hastings would be the one who killed him. Finally locked away where he belonged.

Pip had always been so curious about what was back there, the sort of wonder that dies a little more each year you grow older.

destiny moves in mysterious ways, doesn’t it? Binding us together all the way back then.

My name is Arthur,” he said, pausing, eyes flicking to Red, latching on. “Arthur Gotti.

Her judgement day would come, but for now, Pip walked and she promised. That's all. One foot in front of the other, even if she had to drag them, even when the hole in her heart felt too big to keep standing. She walked and she promised and he was with her, Ravi's fingers slotting in between hers in the way they used to fit, fingertips in the dips of her knuckles.

and I made muffins Like bribery muffins? that's what the recipe said, yeah.

People were temporary. It was the one thing you could count on: people always left,

And though this story does have its monsters, I’ve found that it is not one that can be so easily cleaved into the good and the bad. In the end, this was a story about people and their different shades of desperation, crashing up against each other. But there was one person who was good until the very end. And his name was Sal Singh.

Simon scoffed. ‘Sure, just a misunderstanding. There’s a sniper out there with a high-powered rifle and a laser sight who’s decided to use us as target practice. But yeah, just a misunder standing.’ He’d changed his tune.

I don’t see the logic in putting a nose hole in your nose hole,” said Pip. “Another Pip quote for the books.” Cara feigned writing it down in midair. “What was the one that got me the other day?” “The sausage one.” Pip sighed. “Oh yeah,” Cara snorted. “So, Laur, I was asking Pip which pajamas she wanted to wear, and she just casually says, ‘It’s sausage to me.’ And didn’t realize why that was a weird response.” “It’s not that weird,” said Pip. “My grandparents from my first dad are German. ‘It’s sausage to me’ is a German saying; just means ‘I don’t care.

Was that fair? Maybe Red’s understanding of it was skewed, because it didn’t seem fair at all, her life in the hands of five other people. But when had life ever been fair to her, why should death be any different?

I've been thinking', Pip said, turning to face him. 'All Stanley wanted was a quiet life, to learn to be better, to try do some good with it. And he doesn't get to do that any more. But we're still here, we're alive.' She paused, meeting Jamie's eyes. 'Can you promise me something? Can you promise me you'll live a good life? A full life, a happy one. Live well, and do it for him, because he can't any more.

I've been lying to myself for a while now, trying to separate myself from that person who became so obsessed with finding Andie Bell's killer. Trying to convince everyone else it wasn't really me so I could convince myself. But I think, now, that that is me, And maybe I'm selfish and maybe I'm a liar and maybe I'm reckless and obsessive and I'm OK with doing bad things when it's me doing them and maybe I'm a hypocrite, and maybe none of that is good, but it feels good. It feels like me, and I hope you're OK with all that because... I love you too.

Justice exists... Maybe not the kind that happens in police stations and courtrooms, but it does exist. And when you really think about it, those words - good and bad, right and wrong - they don't really matter in the real world. Who gets to decide what they mean: those people who just got it wrong...? No... I think we all get to decide what good and bad and right and wrong mean to us, not what we're told to accept.

He caught her staring: at the fall of his dark hair, at the dimpled line in his chin where her little finger fit, at his dark eyes and the flame dancing inside them from her mom's new Autumn Spice candle. His eyes were always bright somehow, dazzling, like from within. Ravi Singh was the opposite of dead- eyed. The antidote. Pip needed him to remind herself of that sometimes. So she watched him, took him all in, left none of him behind.