“Today, love came knocking at my window. To share with dad such a confusing, yet wonderful occasion would be great. Still, I keep this to myself. Who knows? In the future maybe dad and I can share more than silence but not until dad allows love to knock for me at the front door.”

“Who are these people sharing the street with me? What is going on in their worlds, inside their heads? Are they in love? If so, is it the kind that Mum and Dad have? Based on having things in common, like raspberry picking and a love of dogs, and Shakespeare, and long country walks? Or is it the knock-you-out, eat-you-up, set-you-on-fire kind of love that I have longed for-and avoided-all my life?”

“I can't get over this. Dad isn't Sam's dad? Dad is a friend? How was I supposed to know that? People shouldn't be allowed to sign themselves as Dad unless they are your dad. It should be the law.”

“What is that?" Dad said, looking at the doll."It’s called the Scream," I said."I know that, but what us it?” Dad said.“Maybe she sleeps with it,” I said to Dad as he tucked it under his arm.“Then no wonder it’s screaming,” he said.”

“Love, when it came and knocked on my door, was going to be enough.”-”

“My Dad says that we're the meanest to the ones we love because we know they'll still love us.”