Jennette McCurdy

I’ve been waiting for this moment for two whole weeks, since I first decided what I was going to wish for. The birthday wish is the most power I have in my life right now. It’s my best chance at control. I don’t take this opportunity for granted. I want to make it count.

I don’t like knowing people in the context of things. Oh, that’s the person I work out with. That’s the person I’m in a book club with. That’s the person I did that show with. Because once the context ends, so does the friendship.

The fragility of Mom’s life is the center of mine.

“So what do you say? You want to act? You want to be Mommy’s little actress?”
There’s only one right answer.

Plus, who wants to read a review from someone who takes the time to write a review? Can’t trust ’em, too much time on their hands.

h my God, his voice. It’s my favorite thing about him—quiet and gravelly, probably from his two packs a day, but that’s fine, we can deal with the lung cancer later.

“You’re gonna be a star, Nettie. I just know it. You’re gonna be a star.”

Mom’s not as stressed about the two things she’s typically most stressed about: bills and my body.

A part of me wonders if Mom is supporting my meals a bit more because Miranda and Nathan eat breakfast and lunch in our joint schoolroom and it might look weird if I don’t, or if I eat much less than them or something.

I used to hate makeup, but now I want to wear it. To hide behind it.