“There wasn't much to know. Now there's less.”

“There's something dangerous about the boredom of teenage girls.”

“She said I'd better not make her unhappy because I oughta know that she's never unhappy alone.”

“You have to decide who you are, little girl, she told me once. Once you know that, everyone else will too.”

“Because they do burn leaves here, the older folks do, and I remember now that I love it and always have. The way fall feels at night because of it, because of the crackling sound and walking around the sidewalks, like when you’re a kid, and kicking those soft piles, and seeing smoke from backyards and Mr. Kilstrap standing over the metal drum with the holes in the top, the sparking embers at his feet.”

“Did she look at us that first week and see past the glossed hair and the shiny legs, our glittered brow bones and girl bravado? See past all that to everything beneath, all our miseries, the way we all hated ourselves but much more everyone else? Could she see past all of that to something else, something quivering and real, something poised to be transformed, turned out, made? See that she could make us, stick her hands in our glitter-gritted insides and build us into magnificent teen gladiators?”

“Pretend you're me," she says. I can barely see her over the frothy mound.And it happens just like that.A feeling of sinking, a falling deep inside.And I'm her.And this is my house, and Matt French is my husband, tallying columns all day, working late into the night for me, for me.And here I am, my tight, my perfect body, my pretty, perfect face, and nothing could ever be wrong with me, or my life, not even the sorrow that is plainly right there in the center of it. Oh, Colette, it's right there in the center of you, and some kind of despair too. Colette----that silk sucking into my mouth, the weight of it now, and I can't catch my breath, my breath.”