“You looked strange climbing in the tree like that.” Tiger Lily pulled her braids between her fingers, her sudden self-consciousness feeling foreign and strange to her. “I didn’t do it to look nice,” she said. “But you do care.” Tiger Lily studied the tree and decided if she did care, she would now choose not to. “I don’t,” she said. “All girls do,” he added, pushing the point. “You must not know many girls.” “I know a million,” Peter said, dark and serious. There was a long awkward silence, but if Peter regretted his words, I couldn’t tell.Jodi Lynn Anderson, Tiger Lily