“A pretty handsome jerk, I might add, but a huge, colossal megajerk nonetheless." Kenzie gave me a quick glance to see how I was taking this. I shrugged. Not going to argue with that.And then a second later:She thought I was handsome?”

“I was born handsome and I will die handsome. ”

“I only met Mad Sweeney twice, alive," he said. "The first time I thought he was a world-class jerk with the devil in him. The second time I thought he was a major fuckup and I gave him the money to kill himself. He showed me a coin trick I don't remember how to do, gave me some bruises, and claimed he was a leprechaun. Rest in peace, Mad Sweeney.”

“Oh! not handsome—not at all handsome. I thought him very plain at first, but I do not think him so plain now. One does not, you know, after a time.”

“He was devastatingly handsome, kind, and spoke a second language. If the sweet potato fries turned out to be all that he’d promise, I might have fallen out of my chair.”

“My mother would always ask us if anyone wanted to learn how to cook or to sew or to iron clothes. I always ran to her—“Me! Me! Me!” So, my mom would teach me. I secretly feared that I might be condemning myself to a life of sissyhood. One day she said it was good that I learned these things because I was never going to be strong or handsome or smart or popular like my older brother, Jesús. He was “el molde” (the mold) I would never be a good copy of him. She said that I might never find a girlfriend or get married—so it was good that I was learning to take care of myself. It freaked me out. I wanted to be strong, handsome, smart, and popular like my brother, Jesús. I never felt like I was. I was just a bad copy...”