“Did you know that seventy-five to eighty percent of juvenile offenders can’t read at grade level?”“Really?” This was news to me.“Your world becomes a much smaller place if you can’t read. You have far fewer options. It’s not the only factor, but it’s a big one. If they want to know how big to build a prison,all they have to do is look at the illiteracy statistics.”“They knew I was coming.”“You or someone like you.”“You knew it too, all those years ago, back in Quincy. That’s why you tried to help me. Because you knew I was coming here.”“Here or someplace like here.”

“I stand to leave, but my father says, “Wait!” over the red telephone. “Let me just look at you a minute.” He smiles at me proudly. “I know you been in some trouble, son, but you turned out good. That’s all I ever wanted,” he tells me. Then he puts his hand against the glass and I put my hand against the glass. “I love you,” he says.“I love you, too,” I say back.”

“Are you a virgin?” I asked, “A virgin who’s gonna tear out my heart?”“Yes … no … wait.” She looked at me. “I’m not going to rip out your heart.”“Thanks for clearing that up,” I said“Is that okay with you?” she asked softly.“Okay with me?”,“No, it’s not okay at all,” I replied.“Why not?” She looked down at her toes.“I want you to rip out my heart.”She smiled, pressed her hand to my chest, and said, “I could never do that.”You already have, I thought as I took her hand in mine”

“Who cares about my voice? There are more important things going on in the world. I want to make a difference. I’m going to law school. I want to become a public defender.”I couldn’t believe she’d give up singing to work with scumbags like me. “By the time a guy ends up in front of the judge, it’s too late to make a difference.”“It’s never too late to make a difference,” she said.“All I’m saying is that with your music you could have an influence on people before they end up in trouble.”

“Want me to drive?” Wade asks. “I won’t take any detours.”I slam on the brakes and come to a dead stop right in the middle of the road. “Sure. Why not? My life is one big fucking detour,” I yell. Then I bang my head on the steering wheel and I can’t help it. I start to cry.”

“listening to Pastor Bob talk about mercy and redemption, I am filled with hope. Not the kind of expectation that comes from knowing you can pull yourself up by your own bootstraps, but the trust that comes from utter failure, from knowing you are pathetic and small and you’ve got no place to look but up.”

“How far can you go down the wrong path before you can't get back on the right one?”