I watch Raffy as she removes the pickles from her hamburger and hands them over to Santangelo without them exchanging a word and I realize again there is more to that relationship than spelling bees and being enemies. These people have history and I crave history. I crave someone knowing me so well that they can tell what I'm thinking.

I think if I'm ever asked to recall what Year 12 was all about, I'll remember it as one big cappuccino experience.

What kind of freak is this kid who's giggling hysterically with the girls in the neighbouring beds, each with a crush on the other for being the same age when the rest of the world seems so old?

I don't care what my friends think." "You care what they'l do when they remember that you're the one with personality.

Never underestimate the value of knowing another's language. It can be far more powerful than swords and arrows.

Later, when they were almost asleep he had called out to her. 'Finke?' 'Yeah?' 'We'll make a great team. You plant. I build.

What's with what you're wearing?" Griggs asks while we stand outside waiting for the others. "It's pretty hideous, isn't it?" I say. "Don't force me to look at it," he says. "It's see-through." That kills conversation for a couple of seconds.