Boys don’t cry, they just get stones in their eyes. They like to build walls around the hurt inside and pretend that it dies.
Already, I hardly recognize myself. I’ve been transfigured by the dress, by the bright lights in the dressing room. For all my life I have been Hana Tate.
But the girl in the mirror is not Hana Tate. She is Hana Hargrove, soon-to-be wife of soon-to-be mayer, and a symbol of all that is right about the cured world.
She is even lovelier than I thought. Her eyes are vivid green, and her skin is luminous and soft-looking.
Of course she would be named Coral.
“We could go there,” he says at last. I think he must be joking, so I start to laugh. He stays quiet, though, and when I open my eyes I see his face is totally composed. “We could go if you want to.”
Delirium Coverflip → What the Delirium cover might have looked like had it been written by a male author, inspired by Maureen Johnson’s challenge.
Amor deliria nervosa. The deadliest of all deadly things.