Stephanie Perkins

“It's maddening how someone so easy to read can be so impossible to understand.”

“And if I'm the stars, Cricket Bell is entire galaxies.”

“I dream about reaching across the backseat and touching his hand. Just one hand. It closes slowly, tightly around mine, and the sensation of his skin against mine is astounding. I've never felt anything like it before.”

“Cricket tells a joke and turns to see if I'm laughing, if I think he's funny, and I want him to know that I do think he's funny, and I want him to know that I'm glad he's my friend, and I want him to know that he has the biggest heart of anyone I've ever known. And I want to press my palm against his chest to feel it beat, to prove he's really here.”

“You have a roommate.""Yeah." He sounds confused."The, um, picture on your door surprised me.""NO. No. I prefer my women with...fewer carnivorous beasts and less weaponry." He pauses and smiles. "Naked is okay. What she needs are a golden retriever and a telescope. Maybe then it would do it for me."I laugh."A squirrel and a laboratory beaker?""A bunny rabbit and a flip chart," I say."Only if the flip chart has mathematical equations on it."I fake swoon onto his bed. "Too much, too much!”

“Cricket walks several steps behind me. It's a careful distance. I wonder if he's looking at my butt.WHY DID I JUST THINK THAT? Now my butt feels COLOSSAL. Maybe he's looking at my legs. Is that better? Or worse? Do I want him looking at me? I hold on to the bottom of my dress as I climb into the backseat and crawl to the other side. I'm sure he's looking at my butt. He has to be. It's huge, and it's right there, and it's huge.No. I'm acting crazy.I glance over, and he smiles at me as he buckles his seat belt. My cheeks grow warm.WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?”

“Why didn't you guys dress up?" Lindsey asks."We did." Calliope cracks her first smile. "we're dressed as twins."Lindsey grins back. "Hmm, I see it now. Fraternal or identical?""You'd be surprised how many people ask," Cricket says."What do you tell them?" Lindsey asks."That I have a penis."Oh God. My cheeks burn as they all burst into laughter. Think about something else, Dolores. ANYTHING else. Cucumbers, Bananas, Zucchini. AHHHH! NO NO NO NO NO NO NO. I turn my face away from them as Calliope fakes a yakking sound.”

“Anna prods St. Clair's shoulder. "Come on. Weren't you gonna show me that thing?" "What thing?" She stares at him. He stares back. She cocks her head toward Cricket and me. "Ah, yes." St. Clair stands. "That thing." They rush out. The door shuts, and St. Clair shouts, "Lola, Cricket wants to show you his thing, too-oo!”

“Cricket removes his hand. I blink at him, and he cautiously offers his arm. I hesitate. And then I take it. And then we're so close that I smell him. I smell him. His scent is clean like a bar of soap, but with a sweet hint of mechanical oil. We don't speak as he leads me across the street to the bus stop. I press against him. Just a little. His other arm jumps, and he lowers it. But then he raises it again, slowly, and his hand comes to rest on top of mine. It scorches. The heat carries a message: I care about you. I want to be connected to you. Don't let go.”

“I risk a glance, and St. Clair stares back. Deeply. He has not looked at me like this before. I turn away first, then feel him turn a few beats later.I know he is smiling, and my heart races.”

“And I realize ... it’s okay. It’s okay if St. Clair and I never become more than friends. His friendship alone has strengthened me in a way that no oneelse’s ever has. He swept me from my room and showed me independence. In other words, he was exactly what I needed. I won’t forget it. And I certainlydon’t want to lose it.”

“I trail my fingers across his cheek. He stays perfectly still for me. “Please stop apologizing, Étienne.”“Say my name again,” he whispers.I close my eyes and lean forward. “Étienne.”He takes my hands into his.Those perfect hands, that fit mine just so. “Anna?”Our foreheads touch. “Yes?”“Will you please tell me you love me? I’m dying here.”And then we’re laughing. And then I’m in his arms, and we’re kissing, at first quickly—to make up for lost time—and then slowly, because we have allthe time in the world. And his lips are soft and honey sweet, and the careful, passionate way he moves them against my own says that he savors the way Itaste, too.And in between kisses, I tell him I love him.Again and again and again.”

“His eyes lock on mine."Anna,I promise that I will never leave you."My heart pounds in response.And Étienne knows it,because he takes my hand and holds it against his chest,to show me how hard his heart is pounding,too.”

“We stop at a red light.Mom stares at me."You like him""OH GOD,MOM.""You do.You like this boy.""He's just a friend.He has a girlfriend.""Anna has a boooy-friend," Seany chants."I do not!""ANNA HAS A BOOOY-FRIEND!”

“I don't believe in fashion. I believe in costume. Life is too short to be same person every day.”

“You should show encouragement whenever you can. People try harder when they know that someone cares about them.”

“It's become impossible to deny he means something to me.”

“I look at you, and I think about you, and ... I don't know. No one has ever confounded me the way you do.”

“Here’s the thing about Cricket Bell. You can’t NOT notice him when he walks into a room. The first thing that registers is his height, but it’s quickly followed by recognition of his energy. He moves gracefully like his sister, but with an enthusiasm he can’t quite control- the constantly moving body, hands, feet. He’s been subdued the last few times I’ve seen him, but he’s fully revived now.”

“This warmth over the telephone. Is it possible for home to be a person and not a place? Bridgette used to be home to me. Maybe St. Clair is my new home.I mull this over as our voices grow tired and we stop talking. We just keep each other company. My breath. His breath. My breath. His breath.I could never tell him, but it's true.This is home. The two of us.”

“How'd you get this number?""Well, you see, there's this book. It has white pages. And it has all these phone numbers listed inside it. It's also online.”

“And it didn’t matter how many songs or poems had already been written about them, because whenever he thought about the girl, the stars shone brighter. As if she were the one keeping them illuminated.”

“The moon is fat, but half of her is missing. A ruler-straight line divides her dark side from her light. She hangs low over the bustling Castro, noticeably earlier than the night before. Autumn is coming. For as long as I can remember, I’ve talked to the moon. Asked her for guidance. There’s something deeply spiritual about her pale glow, her cratered surface, her waxing and waning. She wears a new dress every evening, yet she’s always herself.”

“Once upon a time, there was a girl who talked to the moon. And she was mysterious and she was perfect, in that way that girls who talk to moons are. In the house next door, there lived a boy. And the boy watched the girl grow more and more perfect, more and more beautiful with each passing year. He watched her watch the moon. And he began to wonder if the moon would help him unravel the mystery of the beautiful girl. So the boy looked into the sky. But he couldn't concentrate on the moon. He was too distracted by the stars. And it didn't matter how many songs or poems had already been written about them, because whenever he thought about the girl, the stars shone brighter. As if she were the one keeping them illuminated. One day, the boy had to move away. He couldn't bring the girl with him, so he brought the stars. When he'd look out his window at night, he would start with one. One star. And the boy would make a wish on it, and the wish would be her name.At the sound of her name, a second star would appear. And then he'd wish her name again, and the stars would double into four. And four became eight, and eight became sixteen, and so on, in the greatest mathematical equation the universe had ever seen. And by the time an hour had passed, the sky would be filled with so many stars that it would wake the neighbors. People wondered who'd turned on the floodlights.The boy did. By thinking about the girl.”

“It's not stupid to want to put on a pretty dress and feel beautiful for a night.”

“I just want you to know that we didn't do anything but talk and sleep - sleep sleep," he quickly adds. "Like with eyes closed and hands to oneself and dreaming. Innocent dreams. I would never do anything behind your back. I mean, never anything dishonorable. I mean-”

“Parents are excellent at stating the obvious.”

“History books are filled with lies. Whoever wins the war tells the story.”

“It's why she's always switching coaches, and it's why she'd rather get third instead of second. When she gets third, at least she's happy to have placed. But second. That's too close to first.”

“You're doing the girl thing. Saying you're happy when you're not.”

“If I looked at this dress as one massive thing, it would be too overwhelming. No one could create such a gown. But by breaking it down into tiny, individual steps, it becomes something I can achieve.”

“I finally realized how absurd it was that I'd worried so much about what my classmates thought about me. It's not like I wanted to look like them.”

“So neither is "the woman". They're both gay men. Duh.”

“You only have one chance to make a first impression.”

“I just can't fathom why anyone would stand on a ledge when there's a respectable amount of walking space right next to it.”

“Remember that day I made you the elevator?” he suddenly asks.I give him a faint smile. “How could I forget?”“That was the day I had my first kiss.”My smile fades.“I’m better now,” He sets the apple beside me. “At kissing, just so you know.”

“That's it," Rashmi says. "I'm outta here. Enjoy your hormones.”

“You must think I'm a complete idiot right? That I'm just some doormat who'll wait for you on the sidelines forever? That you can keep running back to her every time things get difficult and I'll just be okay with it?!”

“I have to talk to someone or risk explosion.”

“I have the strangest feeling that he's aware of me as I am of him.”

“My mind wanders to the other side of the courtyard, where St. Clair waits with Josh in Q-through-Z. I wonder if I have any classes with him. I mean, them. Classes with them.”

“Yes, St. Claire. I like you. But I can't say it aloud, because he's my friend. And friends don't let other friends make drunken declarations and expect them to act upon them the next day”

“Seriously. We were never like that were we?”

“What my parents never considered is that I just wanted a choice.”

“Oh my. He's English."Er. Does Mer live here?"Seriously, I dont know any American girl who can resist an English accent.”

“They left me. My parents actually left me! IN FRANCE!”

“Seriously, I don't know any American girl who can resist an English accent.”

“How many times can our emotions be tied to someone else's - be pulled and stretched and twisted - before they snap? Before they can never be mended again?”

“I must be a masochist to keep putting myself in these situations. I need help. Ineed to see a shrink or be locked in a padded cell or straitjacketed or something.”

“We both got our Point Zero wishes―each other. He said he wished for me every time.”