“I pull my lower lip all the way in between my teeth. If I try hard enough, maybe I can gobble my whole self this way.... I didn't try hard enough to swallow myself.”

“Or maybe they were staring at me as I tried to discreetly wipe sweat from between my breasts without appearing to get to second base with myself. Hard to say.”

“I was thinking that if it really was my fault, if every reaction could be traced to an action before, then at the very beginning would be me at the canteen queue with my twenty-dollar note instead of my packed lunch. In turn I could blame my mother for not caring enough and maybe I could blame my father for making my mum stop caring. Maybe all this was supposed to happen. It had been happening all along. It was too hard to try and stop it now. In a twisted way, there was cold comfort in that.”

“Really it’s not deliberate. Sometimes I try really hard to be anything but gay. I watch the other guys—and I know what you’re thinking. You think I mean I check them out, and yeah, I can’t help but do that too. But what I’m sayin is that I watch the really normal guys, the ones who are into sports, who act all totally straight, and I try to copy them. I try to lower the timber of my voice, not sound so nasally when I talk. I try to gesture with my hands in a manly sorta way instead of all limp-wristed and girly. I try to remember not to sit with my legs crossed, and I try really hard to avoid throwing a ball like a girl.”

“I stared hard, trying to find a pattern. Thinking if I kept looking hard enough, maybe the pieces of the world would fit back together into something I could understand.”

“I love how you look at me."[...]"And how's that?" I asked, blushing on cue.His lower lip curled in that mischievous way it did."Like you're having a hard time deciding between my lips and this blueberry pie. And I know nothing comes between you and this pie."I giggled. "Very observant. Wonder which one will win?”