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.”

I swallow. We’re not good. Miranda got me a very expensive gift card to a very fancy movie theater. That is a cool gift

Up until a few months ago, I thought my rainbow bell-bottoms from the Children’s Place and my quiz books from Limited Too were cool. But since meeting Miranda, my cool radar has shifted

she’d be playing Gwen Stefani or Avril Lavigne from her Sidekick. I knew of these artists, but Mom didn’t allow me to listen to them because she said their music might make me wanna “do bad things.”