It was Nick's voice Nick's arms. He turned me on my back and swam with me, pulling me to the bank.

You've changed," he said. "You're-uh-" "Yes?" "Taller." "I hope so. I was ten the last time you saw me." "And your hair's really dark now-and short," he added.

There's a gentleness about April that made me ache. It seemed like I was always on the run, always working and chasing some goal or another, but April had a way of holding me still. And then I'd begin to hurt and yearn for something I couldn't describe, something I hadn't known yet. All I knew was the ache itself and the strange, sweet feeling it was.

Sometimes I think that love is one big fairy tale. I wonder if people who say they are in love, if – really – they’ve just talked themselves into it. They want it so badly, they kind of make it happen. They fake it until they start believing their own story. Maybe that’s just sour grapes or something. Maybe because it doesn’t happen to me, I don’t want to think it happens to anyone else.

I think I’m dying to get to know a particular guy. Then he opens his mouth and ruins it.

I took a step back. "Here." He plunked his wet hat on my head. "Don't go anywhere," he told me, then turned away.

Hey, does my stupidity give you the right to bruise a tender heart?" "Yeah, yeah. I'm bruising a heart made of Play-Doh.