1
" I hadn’t gone to Andover, or Horace Mann or Eton. My high school had been the average kind, and I’d been the best student there. Such was not the case at Eli. Here, I was surrounded by geniuses. I’d figured out early in my college career that there were people like Jenny and Brandon and Lydia and Josh—truly brilliant, truly luminous, whose names would appear in history books that my children and grandchildren would read, and there were people like George and Odile—who through beauty and charm and personality would make the cult of celebrity their own. And then there were people like me. People who, through the arbitrary wisdom of the admissions office, might share space with the big shots for four years, might be their friends, their confidantes, their associates, their lovers—but would live a life well below the global radar. I knew it, and over the years, I’d come to accept it.
And I understood that it didn’t make them any better than me. "
― Diana Peterfreund , Rites of Spring (Break) (Secret Society Girl, #3)
4
" So, fill me in, what’s been going on here?”
“All kinds of scandal,” Clarissa said. “Amy almost drowned, Demetria is going to beat up a patriarch’s wife, our room was trashed by conspiracy theorists, Dragon’s Head broke into the tomb in Connecticut, and Jenny has a crush on Harun.”
“Do not!” Jenny said.
“In other words,” said Demetria. “The usual.”
Odile laughed. “Man, I love this society. "
― Diana Peterfreund , Rites of Spring (Break) (Secret Society Girl, #3)
8
" Does P-Jamie... like me?"
Malcolm blinked. This was clearly not the kind of dirt he'd been expecting.
"I mean,like me, like me." I clarified quickly.
"What are you? Twelve?" he asked, incredulous.
"You aren't supposed to make fun of me!" I scolded.
"You never said you were going to act like a teenybopper. That's a special circumstance. Any judge would agree."
"Fine." I started to rise. "Like I said, forget I asked."
"Wait, Amy. Sit down," he said with a sigh. Malcolm was leaning his fits against the wood, staring down at his knuckles.
I sat. "What?"
He didn't look up. "This is all just between us, right?"
"Yeah."
"I wouldn't say he likes you."
"Oh." Oh. Of course not. How stupid of me. How ridiculous, really-
"He's pretty much in love with you. "
― Diana Peterfreund , Rites of Spring (Break) (Secret Society Girl, #3)
