My boyfriend suggested I write two pages a day. He wouldn't take me out if I hadn't done my two pages. That's how I wrote my second novel.

They grew up on the outside of society. They weren't looking for a fight. They were looking to belong.

Nothing sparkly can stay.

I am a greaser. I am a JD and a hood. I blacken the name of our fair city. I beat up people. I rob gas stations. I am a menace to society. Man do I have fun!

What's the safest thing to be when one is met by a gang of social outcasts in an alley? ...No, another social outcast!

Your mother is not crazy. Neither, contrary to popular belief, is your brother. He is merely miscast in a play. He would have made the perfect knight in a different century, or a very good pagan prince in a time of heroes. He was born in the wrong era, on the wrong side of the river, with the ability to do anything and finding nothing he wants to do.

We couldn't get along without him. We needed Johnny as much as he needed the gang. And for the same reason.