I'll give you one day at a time, Claire. But remember, I'm thousands of days ahead already.

It had always fascinated him that she'd consumed so many words, that her head was full of stories, told a thousand different ways.

Adolescence is like having only enough light to see the step directly in front of you.

Her friendship . . . still existed, as if it was a living, breathing thing, something that came to life the moment it happened and didn't just go away because they no longer acknowledged it.

There was an art to the male posterior. That's all there was to it.

Blank-slate friendships were thin and temperamental. She knew that. There was no history there to cement people together, for better or worse.

Whenever I would get too nosy as a child, my grandmother would say, "When you learn someone else's secret, your own secrets aren't safe. Dig up one, release them all.