Almost every girl falls in love with the wrong man, I suppose it's part of growing up.

I did a lot of musicals growing up.

I love the smell of vanilla, but I didn't have perfumes growing up, so I wore vanilla extract.

This memory was both happy and sad: happy because it was so pleasant, and sad because it made Penelope think about how much she missed Swanburne--the girls, the teachers, Miss Mortimer. Or perhaps it was her own much younger self, that pint-sized person whom she could never be again, whom she missed. It was hard to say.

Growing up she had become used to allowing men the ability to curve themselves into question marks around her and hold her desperately as if she were the answer. She had become afraid to admit that she is not.

I was a total bad girl growing up.