“Her eyes always bothered me when we were kids. They still do. They make mine ache trying to see where they end.”

“Here's to the kids. This one's not for the kids, who always get what they want, But for the ones who never had it at all. It's not for the ones who never got caught, But for the ones who always try and fall. This one's for the kids who didnt make it, We were the kids who never made it. The Overcast girls and the Underdog Boys. Not for the kids who had all their joys. This one's for the kids who never faked it. We're the kids who didn't make it. They say "Breaking hearts is what we do best," And, "We'll make your heart be ripped of your chest" The only heart that I broke was mine, When I got My Hopes up too too high. We were the kids who didnt make it. We are the kids who never made it.”

“Do you always faint at the sight of blood?" Her jaw flexed, and a sound that was almost a growl emanated from low in her throat. "Only when it's mine. Your blood wouldn't bother me a bit.”

“Next I think about that night on my bed: her head pressed into my pillow, her hair spread out around her face. The memory of it makes me hard, but then I remember how it ended, with Libby seeing me with Priscilla. Impotent rage washes over me, but I'm still hard as a damn diamond. I shift my weight; that makes it worse. Libby's eyes are on mine, thankfully.”

“Around fourth grade something similar happens with eyes. The baby eyes don't drop out, nor are there eye fairies around to leave quarters under pillows, but new eyes do arrive nevertheless. Big-kid eyes replace little-kid eyes. Little-kid eyes are scoopers. They just scoop up everything they see and swallow it whole, no questions asked. Big-kid eyes are picky. They notice things that little-kid eyes never bothered with: the way a teacher blows her nose, the way a kid dresses or pronounces a word.”

“But I could always tell in her eyes if she got really pissed at me, and her eyes were still pretty smiley”