“What is the answer, Evan?" Ms Granger asked.Giraffe, I wanted to answer. It was on the tip of my tongue. Giraffe.This was in math class,”

“In my mind, she was Lebkuchen Spice—ironic, Germanic, sexy, and off beat. And, mein Gott, the girl could bake a damn fine cookie … to the point that I wanted to answer her What do you want for Christmas? with a simple More cookies, please!But no. She warned me not to be a smart-ass, and while that answer was totally sincere, I was afraid she would think I was joking or,worse, kissing up.It was a hard question, especially if I had to batten down the sarcasm. I mean, there was the beauty pageant answer of world peace, although I’d probably have to render it in the beauty pageant spelling of world peas. I could play the boo-hoo orphan card and wish for my whole family to be together, but that was the last thing I wanted, especially at this late date.”

“Every single answer starts with the phrase 'I don't know.' But most of the time she does know, if I give her the time and the space in which to answer.”

“Tell me a way you think this can work.""We'll find a way," I tell her."That's not an answer. It's a hope.""Hope's gotten us this far. Not answers.”

“Self-esteem can be so exhausting. I want to cut my hair, change my clothes, erase the pimple from the near-tip of my nose, and strengthen my upper-arm definition, all in the next hour.”

“..I've been trying to argue myself into thinking these things don't matter, A. Really,I have. But I've lost the argument. And I can't keep having it, when I know what the real answer is.”

“I don't know where I am, Evan.""I'm seeing red everywhere. It's just...everywhere.""I am underwater right now. You don't understand. I'm underwater.""I need a gun.""Evan? I need-”