“There! Now we're friends!" declared the minx. "Say you're sorry about my sister -""I am desolated!""That's a good boy!”

“She's like a sister. People say we're such opposites, but that's what makes us such good friends. She's incredibly blunt. I love that about her. If some guy has said or done something to me she doesn't like, she'll grab my cell phone and say, 'I'm deleting his number.”

“We're strangers, we're not friends. I hate this, and I hate them.And I found out that you're angry, and you're sorry you ever met me”

“It's becoming apparent that I like bad boys. That's one of my problems. They've all been bad boys. You're one too. You're a bad boy. But, I think you're a good bad boy.”

“Querida, it's alright," he said. "No one has hurt me in years.""Hey, you're supposed to be my brother," I said, trying to joke. "Brother's don't hold their sisters' hands or call them querida."Seb smiled, his hazel eyes starting to dance. "Yes, they do," he said. "This happens all the time.""Well I guess things are different in Mexico then," I said. "Because in America, no way. And I'm an American.""But you're in Mexico now," he pointed out."Right. And you're saying here, boys holds hands with their sisters and call them sweetheart.""Oh yes. We're very friendly, we Mexicans.”

“I am anxious. I am always anxious. I should change my name to Anxiety Dickinson. I am anxious about my little sister. My big sister. My mother. Myself. Life. I am anxious about what to wear, what to eat, what to say, how to breathe.”