“Brooke Wilkins?" I ask [...]"She's this really annoying girl from Cali who, like, constantly talks about all the girls she's hooked up with. It's just so freshman year, you know?""What is?""Bragging about how you've hooked up with girls.""We never did that.""No, but everyone else did. Remember Sonya Fullmer?""Oh, right," I say. "She was always kissing girls to get guys interested in her.""I remember her," Noah says, grinning."Figures," Ava says.”

“Last year I kissed this freshman girl at a pool party and she wouldn’t get off my nuts for six months. Which is why my policy is now no psychotics, and no freshmen. The freshmen thing is obviously easy to avoid, while the psychotics pose a bit more of a problem. It’s not like girls walk around with “I’m crazy” stamped on their chests.”

“We have to get Bugles," I tell her [...]"Oh, definitely Bugles," she says. "I'm going to get the sour cream and onion kind." She drops them into the basket she's holding."Good idea," I say, happy to be joking around, "And while we're at it, why don't we get some dip for them?""Better yet," Ava says. "Let's skip the Blugles and just eat dip." We both collapse into giggles.”

“Silence. At this point, I expected Corey to say something like, "Jen? I don't know. Jen who?" or "Jen? I have a cousin named Jen, I think, who goes to Georgia Tech," or "Jen? Like Jen Aniston?" or something that basically shows he has no clue what I'm talking about. But silence is not good. Silence is almost as good as saying, "Oh, Jen. She's just one of those tanned strumpets you've been imagining that I'm out clubbing with every night. Only she's not imaginary after all. The only part you got wrong was her name.”

“I couldn't tell you how I felt before talking to Ava, and I felt like I couldn't talk to Ava until she got back. But then last night, there you where, and you looked so beautiful, and I couldn't stop myself anymore. But I shouldn't have done it, I should have stopped it, I should have put you first. I was trying to do the right thing, but all I did was fuck everything up. With you, with Ava, with your friendship...”

“[at the hospital]"What do you think's taking them so long?"[...]"Well," I say "They obviously don't think it's a big deal or they would have carted you right back here.""Or," Lacey says, "they probably know I'm going to die and so they're leaving me out here because they need to help the people who actually have a chance.""Lacey," I say. "Did you see them bringing in the guys who was bleeding profusely from the head?""Yes," she says."If that guy has a chance, then you definitely do.”

“So why haven’t you called?” I ask her now.She looks uncomfortable. “I told you,” she says, twirling the end of her braid around her finger. “School stuff.”“Bullshit.” She looks at me and opens her mouth, probably to lie again. But then she changes her mind. “I didn’t know what to say.” Her voice catches, so I know she’s telling the truth. “And besides, you didn’t call me, either.” “Because you didn’t call me!” Doesn’t she know that the person who got kicked out of school (me) doesn’t have to call the one who didn’t(her)? She should have called to check up on me, to see how I was doing. She should have come over with lemonades and ice cream, keeping me company, helping me nurse my broken heart. That’s what best friends do. It’s so common it’s cliché.”