![]() ![]() But neither of them is a soft place the other could fall. Helpless, August starts sustaining himself on the misplaced hope that if he humored Jack and helped him cope, Jack would lose the truth of himself a little more slowly. When Jack’s hallucinations begin, Jack settles into the unwavering conviction that he sees into a parallel world in need of rescuing. August pushing exactly as hard against Jack as he did against him, so that everything they had built would stay standing and if either let up or gave it more of his weight, it would fall and crumble. Instead, they’ve emerged from the other side of their differences with the kind of relationship that is blinding, deafening, maddening. Jack and August’s lives should have shot out in different directions: Jack, the golden-haired varsity rugby player with the seemingly perfect life, and August, the poor kid who runs drugs in their high school to make extra money. The Wicker King beckoned me closer with delicate claws then sank its fangs into my heart and I think a part of me will never fully escape it. ![]() ![]() My heart feels both hollowed out and so heavy my chest could not hold it. There is a unique sort of agony to this book that I can’t exactly describe. ![]()
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