“Love doesn't always mean rings and veils and walks down the aisle.Sometimes love means broken windows and broken hearts,and not being able to fix either. And sometimes love means telling you, there's no such thing as time in Heaven so don't rush to meet me. Stay a while, and pick, girl, the roses.”

“Sometimes things get broken and people make mistakes. It's just what happens. And then, if you're lucky, they get fixed again, before it's too late.”

“What Love Means to Me,” Chad said, writing. “By Apron Bramhall, the loveliest noun I know. Get over here, noun.”

“Without lifting her head, she said, “I want you to get out.” And right then I was sure: M had been born with the mean gene. It’s the way we come out, Toby said. Maybe M being mean wasn’t any different than Mike and Chad being gay, or me having freckles. Mean was just the way she came out. She hated me all right, but it was nothing personal.”

“But what are you supposed to do now? I mean, how are you supposed to act normal?” Mike looked at me, his blueberry eyes searching. “I don’t know, Apron,” he said. “I was hoping you could tell me.” And then, just like that, I understood what my real job was this summer, and it had nothing to do with flowers.”

“Listen, little lady, the people who do this kind of thing think if we rub up against them, they’ll catch it. But there ain’t no catching what we got,” he smirked. It was the same thing Mike had said. “Either you is or you isn’t. And if you’re lucky, you isn’t.” Toby’s extra-brown eyes softened. “Life’s hard enough.” He looked at me while I thought about this: Being gay wasn’t any different than having freckles.”

“Already in love with her, huh?” she said. I jerked my eyes away and thought about it. But there it was, that tiny heart space, already spreading out between us, my sister and me.”