Dreamland

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For most of the nights of my life I could hear Stewart coming home late from his university studio, the brakes of his bike — they had an old VW bus, but it broke down constantly — squeaking all the way from the bridge down the street. He’d glide down the slope of their yard, under the clothesline, to the garage. Sometimes he forgot about the clothesline and almost killed himself, flying backward while the bike went on, unmanned to crash against the garage door. You’d think they would have moved the clothesline after the second time or so. But they didn’t.
“It’s not the fault of the clothesline,” Stewart explained to me one day, rubbing the red, burned spot on his neck. He’d broken his glasses again and had them taped together in the middle. “It’s about me respecting it as an obstacle.”

– Sarah Dessen, Dreamland, Chapter 2

Friday 56: July 6, 2018

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The Friday 56 is a weekly meme hosted by Freda’s Voice and the rules are simple:

  • Grab a book, any book (I, personally, prefer to use my current read.)
  • Turn to page 56 or 56% in your eReader (If you have to improvise, that’s ok.)
  • Find any sentence, (or few, just don’t spoil it)
  • Post it

Dreamland by Sarah Dessen

I heard the patio door slide open, then footsteps as my father walked out onto the deck. A breeze blew in — hot and sticky-wet — before the door slid shut again. When I looked outside, through the glass, he was standing with his back to me, looking up at the few stars visible through the fast-moving clouds.