So I literally just finished reading The Fault In Our Stars by John Green.
And by literally I mean there are still tears streaking down my face. But.
He flashed his crooked smile, then said, "I lit up like a Christmas tree, Hazel Grace. The lining of my chest, my left hip, my liver, everywhere."
Everywhere. That word hung in the air awhile. We both knew what it meant. I got up, dragging my body and the cart across carpet that was older than Augustus would ever be, and I knelt at the base of the chair and put my head in his lap and hugged him by the waist.
[pg 214]
The emphasis is mine. Added because the very moment I read that all I could think about was Jenni.
(My cousin, Jenni. Melanoma, which spread to her lungs. 13 going on 14. She used her Wish to go to that Atlantis resort where she got to swim with [read: sit by the edge of the pool and pet] the dolphins. They buried her in her school uniform.)
I loved this book. Every review that said it was John Green's best work was absolutely right. It was funny and cute and absolutely wrecked me and I'm honestly tempted to reread it tomorrow since I have the day off. But I pretty much sobbed through the last one hundred pages and I can't stop thinking about Jenni in her school uniform.