, promise to be true to each other and their feelings. This book is so truthful and honest, it has been banned from many school libraries and even publicly burned in Kansas City.
Of the author and the book, the Margaret A. Edwards Award committee said, “Nancy Garden has the distinction of being the first author for young adults to create a lesbian love story with a positive ending. Using a fluid, readable style, Garden opens a window through which readers can find courage to be true to themselves.”
I found this book in Goodreads when I was looking something to read. I looked a tag, ''Banned Books'' and I thought that's odd Those not much illegal or forbidden. Hah.. maybe publish year I don't know but I have read those book I thought . I like Forbidden things(YAY).
That time, I never read any LGBT books So I wanna more try this book. This is about love..two girls love.
But when They discovered they didn't frightened. I love now MM Romance and back then first LGBT book for me about lesbians...coming out. I'm not lesbian okay,so this is very awkward for me because I didn't want to read sexual scene. So I read anyway. And I love it. There's a Pure thing Nancy Garden's create. Also there's horrible thing. Anti-gays,Anti-lesbian. Even you're in high school your Anti-lesbian(ın this case) Teachers discriminate you. Of course They are totally big bitch.
A part of book
Annie shivered. Without
thinking, I put my arm across her shoulders
to warm her, and then before either of us
knew what was happening, our arms were
around each other and Annie’s soft and
gentle mouth was kissing mine. When we did
realize what was happening, we pulled away
from each other, and Annie looked out over
the water and I looked at the candy wrapper.
It had gotten beyond the pilings by then, and
was caught against a rock. For something to
do, I walked over and stuffed it into my
pocket, and then I stayed there, looking out
over the water too, trying to keep my mind
blank. I remember wishing the wind would
literally blow through me, cold and pure and
biting. “Liza,” Annie called in a quiet voice.
“Liza, please come back.”
Part of me didn’t want to. But part of me did,
and that part won. Annie was digging a little
hole in one crumbling piling with her
“You’ll break your nail,” I said, and she
looked up at me and smiled. Her eyes were
soft and troubled and a little scared, but her
mouth went on smiling, and then the wind
blew her hair in wisps across my face and I
had to move away. She put her hand on
mine, barely touching it. “It’s all right with
me,” she whispered, “if it is with you.”
“I—I don’t know,” I said. It was like a war inside
me; I couldn’t even recognize all the
sides. There was one that said, “No, this is
wrong; you know it’s wrong and bad and sinful,”
and there was another that said, “Nothing
has ever felt so right and natural and true
and good,” and another that said it was happening
too fast, and another that just wanted
to stop thinking altogether and fling my
arms around Annie and hold her forever.
There were other sides, too, but I couldn’t
sort them out. “Liza,” Annie was saying,
“Liza, I—I’ve wondered. I mean, I wondered
if this might be happening. Didn’t you?” I
shook my head. But somewhere inside I
knew I had at least been confused.
Annie pulled her collar up around her throat
and I wanted to touch her skin where the collar
met it. It was as if I’d always wanted to
touch her there but hadn’t known it. “It’s my
fault,” Annie said softly. “I—I’ve thought
sometimes, even before I met you, I mean,
that I might be gay.” She said the word “gay”
easily, as if it were familiar to her, used that
“No,” I managed to say, “no—it’s not anyone’s
fault.” I know that underneath my
numbness I felt it made sense about me, too,
but I couldn’t think about it, or concentrate
on it, not then. Annie turned around and
looked at me and the sadness in her eyes
made me want to put my arms around her.
“I’ll go, Liza,” she said, standing up. “I—I
don’t want to hurt you. I don’t think you
want this, so I have hurt you and, oh, God,
Liza,” she said, touching my face, “I don’t
want to, I—like you so much. I told you, you
make me feel—real, more real than I’ve ever
thought I could feel, more alive, you—you’re
better than a hundred Californias, but it’s
not only that, it’s …”
“Better than all those white birds?” I said
around the ache that was in my throat again.
“Because you’re better than anything or
anyone for me, too, Annie, better than—oh, I
don’t know— better than what—better than
everything—but that’s not what I want to be
saying—you—you’re—Annie, I think I love
you.” I heard myself say it as if I were
someone else, but the moment the words
were out, I knew more than I’d ever known
anything that they were true.
“There’s no need for us to pretend to be other
people any more, ever again, is there,