“Shit. I was stuck. I suspected Dick would skip the hassle of having to ferry me back and forth to talk to someone and instead convince my mom to toss me into a mental ward where I could stay out of his hair and he'd have her all to himself. I imagined myself wearing institutional pajamas and having to eat everything with a spoon because no one would trust me with a fork or knife. Most likely my roommate would be some freakish, giant-size woman who didn't speak because she'd chewed off her own tongue.”

“I was just reminding myself that I could get over heartbreak if it happened another time. ... I'll be back again.Yes, I would be back. I could take chances with my heart and I would be able to bounce back, and anything that might hurt me would just make me stronger in the end.And I did deserve everything I wanted-- somebody who would appreciate me, someone I could trust, someone who liked me for me.”

“I can pinpoint that as the single happiest moment of my life, because I realized then that Mom would always have my back. It made me feel giant. I raced back down the concrete ramp, faster than I ever had before, so fast I should have fallen, but I didn't fall, because Mom was in the world.”

“How long have you been dating her?' I asked. Nine months. We never got along. I mean, I didn't even briefly like her. Like, my mom and my dad- my dad would get pissed, and then he would beat the shit out of my mom. And then my dad would be all nice and they'd have a honeymoon period. But with Sara, there's never a honeymoon period. God, how could she think I was a rat? I know, I know: Why don't we break up?' He ran a hand through his hair, clutching a fistful of it atop his head, and said, ' I guess I saty with her because she stays with me. And that's not an easy thing to do. I'm a bad boyfriend. She's a bad girlfriend. We deserve each other.”

“I could take chances with my heart and I would be able to bounce back, and anything that might hurt me would just make me stronger in the end. And I did deserve everything I wanted-somebody who would appreciate me, somebody I could trust, someone who liked me for me.”

“I could picture life—school and everything else—continuing on without me. But I could not picture my funeral. Not at all. Mostly because I couldn’t imagine who would attend or what they would say.”