“Another voice rages. I hate that boy! I hate me! I am so incredibly stupid!A sunflower leans over the fence, smilingHow dare you!I rip off its head and throw it in the gutter.The smart thing to do is to keep going on. Walk away quickly and no one will know what I've done. But I can't move because my eyes are locked on the slowly opening front door - locked on Mrs Muir.'I'm sorry.' My tiny voice sounds so pathetically lame, but I've still got more lameness for her. 'I never do this sort of thing. I like sunflowers. I was just angry about something - nothing to do with you or the flower. I'm really, really sorry.''Oh, you are upset! Well, never mind'. Mrs Muir comes closer to me. 'Goodness, we all get cross. The main thing is: did it make you feel any better?''No. Yes. Maybe. A little bit.''Would you like to do another one? There's more out the back, too. You go for your life dear. I don't mind at all - they need a good pruning.”

“I've always wondered about Stop-and-Go guys. Do you like it if drivers wave and say thanks as they go past? Or is it better if they ignore you? Most times when I'm out in the car with Bull, I give a wave and a "thanks". Usually the guy with the sign stares at me as if I've just escaped from an asylum. So what's the right thing to do?''I've never met anyone like you before, Tiffany.''Really?''No - never.''Then you just haven't been to enough asylums.”

“Not bad, not bad. That's one down. Only a million to go.''Right. Thanks, Shark.'I should have known to expect something like that from him.'Now that you've proven yourself I reckon you've earned a go at a very important assignment.''Making tea?''No, I said important. You want to have a crack at it?''All right. That'd be good.''That's the way. Run down the post office and get the mail for us. Key's hanging up in the front office. When you come back, I want you to open it up and sort it into three piles: good stuff, bad stuff, and shit. Off you go.'You bastard, Shark. You bastard. I say that to myself as I trudge away.”

“It's not a bit strange,' I tell her. 'Davey's thinking of taking up shooting as a hobby, so he wants to go check out the rifle range and he asked me if I'd like to go with him.'Kayla snorts. 'Are you kidding me? He should be checking you out - not the rifle range! No way is that a date.'I go to the one person I know I can depend on. 'It is a date, isn't it, Reggie?''S'pose it all depends on how it goes,' he says. 'If you have a good time, come home happy, then it's a date.''Okay.''But if he shoots yer, it wasn't a date - it was an ambush.''Reggie! That's mean!''You know I'm only kiddin', Tiffy. He puts his arms out and I gladly fall into them. 'Don't worry about what anyone says, luv. It's a date.”

“Do you like that?" I'll say in surprise since it doesn't seem like her type of thing, and she'll look at me as if I'm mad. That!?" She'll say, "No, it's hideous" Then why on earth," I always want to say, "did you walk all the way over there to touch it?" but of course...I have learned to say nothing when shopping because no matter what you say... Read more - "I'm hungry", "I'm bored", "My feet are tired", "Yes, that one looks nice on you too", "Well, have both of them", "Oh, for fuck sake", "Can't we just go home", "Monsoon? Again? Oh for fuck sake", "then why on earth did you walk all the way over there to touch it?" - it doesn't pay, so I say nothing.”

“I like you but you mightn't feel the same way about me, and I wouldn't blame you. To save us both from any awkward moments I've figured out an easy way to do this. Nod if you're even slightly interested in getting to know me. Write a ten page explanation if you're not.”

“I stroll into the kitchen. Bull's making lunch. He's actually no relation to me, though secretly I look on him as my big brother, sometimes even my dad. When I needed a father for parent-teacher nights, Bull was there; if I fell out of a tree he'd run to catch me. He usually dropped me, but at least he tried; he's my full time body guard and chauffer, and, when I was thirteen and feeling depressed after spending too long in front of a mirror, he was the one I asked - 'Do you think I'm pretty?''No, mate,' he said, 'I wouldn't call you pretty at all. No way. You're beautiful.'It's still near the top of one of my all-time favourite lies.”