“Sadie looked like she'd just discovered the gym showers didn't have curtains.”

“Besides, I'm not a mirror girl. I have Frankie and Sadie to tell me if I have lettuce in my teeth. I don't have shiny lip gloss to check. I don't do anything that necessitates Visine. Still, sometimes I'll come out of a stall or look up from washing my hands and catch sight of myself: a small, startled person behind a curtain of dark hair who looks away quickly, as if embarrassed by being caught staring.”

“Teddy Roosevelt?" I suggested. Sadie and I had been trying to figure out the second mathlete's costume for a few minutes. He was wearing a 1930's-style suit,had his hair slicked down carefully, and was sporting a fake mustache."No glasses. And I can't even begin to imagine the connection between Davy Jone's Locker and Teddy Roosevelt." Sadie pulled a long gold hair from her pumpkin-orange punch and sighed.Maybe her mother hadn't topped her Sleepy Hollow triumph, but it wasn't from lack of determination. What Mrs. Winslow hadn't achieved in creativity (she'd gone the mermaid route), she'd made up in the details. The tailed skirt was intricately beaded and embroidered in a dozen shades of blue and green. It was pretty amazing.The problem was the bodice: not a bikini, but not much better as far as Sadie was concerned. It was green, plunging, and edged with itchy-looking scallops. She was managing to stay covered by the wig, but that was an issue in itself. It was massive,made up of hundreds of trailing corkscrew curls in a metallic blonde. To top it all off, the costume included a glittering, three point crown, and a six-foot trident, complete with jewels and trailing silk seaweed."Sadie," I'd asked quietly when she'd appeared at my house, shivering and tangled in her wig, "why don't you..." Just tell her where she can shove her trident? But that would just have been mean. Sadie gives in and wears the costumes because it's infinitely easier than fighting. "...come next door and we'll see if Sienna has a shawl you can borrow?”

“Daniel stood up and loomed over Sadie. "Sing?""Sorry?""Do.You.Want.To.Sing.With.Me?"For a count of five, nothing happened. Then,a thousand sad wallflowers at a thousand loud dances were redeemed in that moment. Sadie positively lit up. "Yes," she said, sitting up straight. "I do.""Okay." He started for the stage. "Lose the jacket."She paused halfway out of her seat. "What?""The jacket," he said over his shoudler. "It's freaking ugly."I watched as Sadie froze."C'mon, Sadie. I'm aging here."Sadie slid the jacket off her shoulders. It caught at her elbows for a second, then she let it drop to the chair. Underneath, she was wearing jeans and a red cashmere sweater. She looked terrified, mortified, and really good. "Excellent," Daniel said. "Let's go.”

“So,if it's all love or money, which is Alex Bainbridge?"I blinked at him. "What?""He's a turd, Ella. He looked right through you like you were a ghost, but you still have a thing for him.""I do n-""Don't even. You've gone through the whole week watching for him. So what is it? I would really like to know. Love or money?""I have not been watching for him!" I snapped. Oh, but I had, in every hallway, at lunch, when I took my seat at the edge of English class. "And if I have, it's just so I can look away first."Frankie rolled his eyes. "Shall I get you a pail of water?""Why?""Your pants are on fire."I actually looked down at my lap. "Oh, very funny." I shot Sadie a look when she giggled.”

“There was something about the shopping mall/raw fish combo that just seemed wrong."Sadie," I began, but didn't have the heart.Frankie did. "A hoagie it is." When she protested, he gave her the reptile eye. "Ever hear of salmonella? ANd I don't mean the dish Ella's uncle named in her honor."We think that might have been what killed Ricky's Top Chef chances last year. Too bad. Disastrous name aside, it had actually been pretty good.Frankie bought us an extra order of french fries.”

“Look.I'm...uh...When you told me you'd looked at my stuff.I didn't...I shouldn't have..."What is it about those two words-I'm sorry-that makes otherwise articulate guys into babbling idiots? I mean, I love you, I get. That's a tough one, putting yourself so completely, nakedly out there. I haven't ever said that to a guy. A guy other than Frankie or my dad, anyway. But I'm sorry? I say it twenty times a day.To Nonna, when I just can't face a three-course breakfast at seven in the morning, to the half-dozen people I bump into on my frantic rush up those eight blocks to school. To Sadie, for having to copy her algebra homework for,like,the thousandth time, because I didn't get to mine.I'm still waiting for Leo to apologize for totalling my bike three years ago. I forgave him eventually. Riding a bike in the middle of the city is a little like playing RUssian roulette with a bus. Still, it would have been nice t have gotten an I'm sorry instead of a litany of excuses. I figure I'll be waiting forever.”