When I was six years old I sprinkled sugar on my head, convinced myself it was pixie dust, wished myself invisible, and walked into the boys' bathroom at school.

I mostly eat peanut butter sandwiches. Peanut butter and banana, peanut butter and jelly, peanut butter and potato chips, peanut butter and olives, and peanut butter and marshmallow goo. So sue me, I like peanut butter.

I don't need shoes. I need a night scope. You think they sell night scopes someplace here?

He squinted at me. "What are you wearing? Is that some new form of birth control?

It's the twenty-first century." I told Tank. "Women drive." "Only in my bed," Tank said. "Never in my car.

You're such a cupcake.

Are we fighting?" I asked Morelli. "No. Were discussing." "Are you sure?" "Am I yelling?" Morelli asked. "Is my face purple? Are the cords on my neck standing out? Am I waving my arms around?" "No." "The were not fighting.