Alex touches her arm. "You look nice." "Nice?" she repeats. "Try harder, Alex." He flushes adorably. "Really nice," he says. "Next time, try this," Harry says. He reaches for my hand. "Franny, I didn't know what beauty was until I saw you walking toward us a minute ago. "I like this better," I say, pulling away. "At least he sounded like he meant it." "I meant it," Harry says, almost irritably.

And Derek was... what? A pair of dark eyes that hid more than they revealed and some broad shoulders and a mouth that could be cold and thin and then suddenly widen into a generous grin just when you thought such a thing was impossible.

He was wearing a plain white oxford unbuttoned over a T-shirt, but something about the way they fit made him look put together, like an Abercrombie model (well, like an Abercrombie model who had remembered to put on a shirt that morning).

I want a tutor,” Layla said. “It would make doing homework so much easier.” “Me too,” said Kaitlyn. “If Layla gets one, I get one.” “No daughter of mine will ever have a tutor,” Dad said. “What if we’re failing a course?” asked Layla. His graying eyebrows drew together. “If you fail a single course, young lady, we will pull you out of school and get you a job scrubbing toilets for the rest of your life.

But I know how this romantic stuff works: one girl's perfect guy is another girl's reject. And right now I'm glad of it.

Basically, the world is a giant shithole. But some of us are capable of imagining something better.

Sometimes people say that kids with autism aren't capable of love. That's ridiculous. My son loves deeply. He's just doesn't communicate well.