“There she is-dancergirl. But she doesn't even notice me. To her, I'm invisible. Should I go up to her, say something? Not a chance! All I can do is watch from afar. Hoping that one day, she'll see me.”

“Every day I hold my breath until I see her. Sometimes in class, sometimes in the hallway. I can't start breathing until I see her smile at me. She always does, but the next day I'm always afraid she won't. At lunch I'm afraid she'll smile more at BT than at me. I'm afraid she'll look at him in some way that she doesn't look at me. I'm afraid that when I go to bed at night I'll still be wondering. I'm always afraid. Is that what love is - fear?”

“She'll hurt me. I know this. I can see it, feel it coming. She's got so much pain, so many cracks and shards and jags in her soul, and I'm going to get cut by her if I'm not careful.”

“She's going to be there.Showing up would be a mistake.It would be awkward.She's going to be there.What if someone asks her to dance?What if she meets her future husband and I'm there to witness it?She doesn't want to see me.I might get drunk and do something to piss her off.She might get drunk and do something to piss me off.I shouldn't go.I had to go. She was going to be there.”

“She laughs and looks out the window and I think for a minute that she's going to start to cry. I'm standing by the door and I look over at the Elvis Costello poster, at his eyes, watching her, watching us, and I try to get her away from it, so I tell her to come over here, sit down, and she thinks I want to hug her or something and she comes over to me and puts her arms around my back and says something like 'I think we've all lost some sort of feeling.”

“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.”