Usually my characters, though young, tend to be street-wise.

Drosophila,” I said, remembering the word. “What?” Lily asked. “Why do girls always fall for guys with the at ention span of drosophila?” “What?” “Fruit flies. Guys with the attention span of fruit flies.” “Because they’re hot?” “This,” I told her, “is not the time for being truthful.

We all just took the bookstore at its word, because if you couldn't trust a bookstore, what could you trust?

I mean, like most guys, you carry around this girl in your head, who is exactly who you want her to be. The person you think you will love the most. And every girl you are with gets measured against this girl in your head.

Teenage boys cannot be trusted. Their intentions are not pure.

It broke the spell. It's not that I stopped being happy. I was still inexplicably, utterly happy. But suddenly the happiness had implications.

There is no such thing as a soulmate...and who would want there to be? I don't want half of a shared soul. I want my own damn soul.