"Looking for Alaska" involves pranks at a boarding school, but it is no care-free romp. John Green's novel is populated by kids with serious difficulties trying to deal with them, and the book handles this subject matter in a realistic way, which means that happy, or even neat, endings are not guaranteed.
Although I was more or less forced to invite all my “school friends,” i.e., the
ragtag bunch of drama people and English geeks I sat with by social necessity in the cavernous cafeteria of my public school, I knew they wouldn’t come.
My French I class back in Florida did not prepare me for Madame O’Malley, who skipped the “how was your summer” pleasantries and dove directly into something called the passé compose, which is
apparently a verb tense.
I hated talking, and I hated listening to everyone else stumble on their words and try to phrase things in the
vaguest possible way so they wouldn’t sound dumb, and I hated how it was all just a game of trying to figure out what the teacher wanted to hear and then saying it.
Although I’d never ridden in it, Alaska apparently had a car, and she offered to drive the Colonel and me to McDonald’s, but the Colonel didn’t have any money, and I didn’t have much either, what with constantly paying for his
extravagant cigarette habit.
based on or manifesting objectively defined standards of rightness or morality
I didn’t hate him like the Colonel did, of course, because the Colonel hated him on principle, and
principled hate is a hell of a lot stronger than “Boy, I wish you hadn’t mummified me and thrown me into the lake” hate.
a vague unpleasant emotion that is experienced in anticipation of some (usually ill-defined) misfortune
I don’t know whether it was the general
anxiety of being on a date (albeit one with my would-be date sitting five people away from me) or the specific
anxiety of having the Beast stare in my direction, but for some reason, I took off running after Takumi.