Kate Ryan

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

For all of you crazy people that think going to Target is ever a good idea during the holiday season, this is a list on how to survive a shopping trip to Target is for you…

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.

He thought I was mad, but in an artistic way; I thought he was horny all the time, but in an artistic way.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.