A fifth-grade bully, a blossoming romance, a late-night crash
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Brooke Ferguson lives in San Francisco with her dog, Peanut. She has a phobia of fresh fruits (bananas are the scariest), which is a shame because she also has a major sweet tooth. She occasionally tweets @BrookeIsTall.
The goat became my charge during my third week in rehab. My counselor, Victoria, suggested I browse the stuffed-animal collection at the clinic gift shop and select one to represent my inner child. “Care for it,” she told me. “Keep it safe. Treat your inner child as you would a baby bird that’s fallen out of its nest.” She cupped her hands, as if to cradle a tiny chick.