Kate Ryan

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

Like booster engines emptied of fuel, my limbs become disposable, useless tanks as the blood rushes from them.

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.

There are some hipster things that hipsters want us to love, so we’ll join their cult. But we’re done falling for these things because we’re all unique individuals. Here are 10 things you need to avoid right now if you don’t want to be a hipster.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

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 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.

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

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