“So Old Man Date Rape was number what?" she asks. "Four or five?""We're not counting him," I say. "This is the Twenty Boy Summer, not the Twenty Dirty Old Man Summer.”

“I think you're beautiful," an old man at the counter - one of our Sunday night fixtures - says...."You passed the Earl test," she says as she pours him a fresh cup."Ma, he says that to anyone who still has their own teeth. No offense, Earl.""None taken," he says. "But you got your own hair too, so you're twice as pretty.”

“Somewhere along the seashore, a strange wind blows over the ocean, and twenty oblivious boys simultaneously look up from their surfboards.”

“Where is Frankie, anyway?" Dad asks. "It's almost noon. I'm surprised you two can stand the separation."I take a deep breath and gulp down some orange juice.Well, Dad, first Frankie lied to me about losing her virginity to the foreign exchange student on the soccer field, and how your first time can't be special and all that. Then we decided to have this twenty boy contest but we only met, like, half, and she lied again about sleeping with one of them when really they just kind of fooled around naked and broke up. Meanwhile, when I was casting off my virginity with boy number five (or was he six?), Frankie read my journal and found out that I was in love with Matt for a million years and by the way, right after you took that picture of us with all the cake and frosting, he kissed me and started this whole long thing that we weren't allowed to tell her about. Frankie was so mad that she threw my journal into the bottom of the ocean, where it was banished for all eternity with a lovesick mermaid who cries out pieces of sea glass. Are you going to eat that bacon?..."I'll probably see her later," I say.”

“You know it wouldn't kill you to walk, right, old man?""Maybe not. Wouldn't kill you to keep your clothes on, either.”

“If I'd known he was going to die, my last words to him would have meant something. They certainly wouldn't have been my out-of-tune attempt at singing that old Grateful Dead song he loved so much. No, I would have told him how I felt about him, straight out. No more flirting, wild-eyed whispers in the grass outside. I would have looked at him harder to ensure his image was permanently seared in my mind. I'd have asked him a million more things so I could remember what mattered before I got in the car on the way home from Custard's. Because after, nothing mattered.”

“Sometimes looking at Frankie is like seeing Matt through a glass of water - a distorted composition of him with all the right parts, but mixed up and i the wrong order. As I watch her sing his old song, I can't shake the feeling that he just stopped by to say hello. ”