a matter of maturity.

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((prelude))

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maturity: recognizing that the world is full of good and evil and that everyone and everything are capable of both, and then coping appropriately with this knowledge

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Massie Block's a trip, but she's no vacation.

She can make you cry but still want to be her best friend. You don't stand a chance the second she opens her freshly glossed lips. She'll make you feel stupid for even considering wearing something you got for your birthday—last month. Eyes are drawn to her by a force tenfold that of an electro magnet. You want to look at her, watch her every move, but you can't—one false dilation of the pupil or twitch of the nose and she'll have the entire school turned against you faster than she can blink one of her ridiculously long-lashed eyelids. High school is so not a democracy.

She breaths beauty and bleeds wit. A snap of her manicured fingers and the world is waiting at her Manolo Blahnik covered feet. Her Gucci wallet is filled with more platinum credit cards than your parents have. If Massie wants the sun, she gets the entire solar system, even when it already belongs to somebody else.

A complete bitch? No, that's Massie Block. But she isn't just Massie Block. And what you see isn't always what you get.

The truth is, Massie Block has been dying since her eleventh birthday.

It's terminal, and no matter how many specialists her daddy flies in from across the globe to see her, nothing can change that. Her mother first grieved and then inserted herself into every hobby she and her little stepford wives club could find. Her father took a year off work and tried his hand in the vineyard business; he might have sipped a few too many expensive French wines somewhere along the way. Massie got tough. Someone in the family had to. She doesn't let anyone in and doesn't let much of herself out. But sometimes when we build up walls to keep people out, all we really want is to find someone who cares enough to knock them down.

When you're doomed to death before you even hit the teenage years, being nice just doesn't really seem like an option. Or at least a very likely one. Okay, Massie is not the friendliest girl you'll meet but, so what? She does has a perfectly legitimate secret excuse. Can you blame her? Really, can you?

Well, someone sure can.

The way he sees it, everyone is dying from the second they are born. But that thought seems to have no affect on how he lives. He lives in each moment; after all, today is a gift, that's why we call it the present. The things he does and the things he says, you'd think he's living forever. And maybe he is. He doesn't hesitate to call Massie out. And he does, big time. He won't take any of her crap. He thinks she needs to grow up. She may never get a chance.

Be nice, he says. The way the phrase reverberates off his tongue lets her know that his words should not be taken as mere suggestion.

Massie is so sure that he just wouldn't understand. However, she does tell him the truth, I can't; it's too hard.

Ah. But, he would understand.

Sometimes the hardest things and the right things are the same…

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