“I’m used to holding on to nothing as tight as I can.”
“I’d break every rule for you.”
“You cannot thrive under the wrong stars, Kricket… the stars here are in opposition to you… can’t you feel it?… Let us take you home.”
“I told him that when we first met... I felt like a butterfly trapped in a net. But... I told him that the more time I spent with him, the more I began to realize how much he means to me I told him that since it seems to be my destiny to dodge raindrops... I was grateful to be dodging them with him. So, I promised him that it would always be his name on my mind when I start my rotation... and when I go to bed each evening... and every quiet moment in between. It will be his name... savored on my lips... stretched across my heart... worshipped by my body... and branded in my mind... until death do us part... and forever after that.”
“She's in your head, Trey."
"My head, my heart, my blood," Trey responds immediately.”
“I’m just saying that when there is little left to lose, the consequences of one’s actions don’t carry the same weight…painful or otherwise.”
“We have to make the stars align for us now-- find a way for us now to get burned for being together." - Trey to Kricket”
“I can't figure out what's wrong with her feet! -Nothing's wrong with my feet! -They are an alluring shade of pink. -Jax, that's nail polish!”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m used to holding on to nothing as tight as I can.”
“But…I told him that the more time that I spent with him, the more I began to realize how much he means to me. I told him that since it seems to be my destiny to dodge raindrops…I was grateful to be dodging them with him. So, I promised him that it would always be his name on my mind when I start my rotation…and when I go to bed each evening…and every quiet moment in between. It will be his name…savored on my lips…stretched across my heart…worshipped by my body…and branded in my mind…until death do us part…and forever after that.”
“If I touch her, she’ll have my soul,” Trey replies.”
“I should love her like there is an ache that won't go away unless I'm with her.”
“He was telling us that your voice will give comfort when the night becomes its blackest,” he replies. “And I’ll protect that voice with my body, my mind, and my spirit . . . because without it, I’m alone in the dark.”
“Trey, I thought that the Znou was beautiful and I wanted to keep it,” I say, explaining myself to him. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself. If I get suicidal, you’ll know ’cuz I’ll be dead. The only thing I’m feeling right now is homicidal, so watch your back.”
“It’s when the crickets stop singing that you know the enemy is near and the battle is about to begin.”
“Then I could just let the common symmetry that exists between us force you to see that you’re mine . . .”—I kiss him—“and I’m lost without you . . .”
“I prefer my justice to be blind.”
“Wayra, it's very nice to meet you. -Get off! -What's wrong? -He touched me. -So? -So, he's going to get hurt if he does it again!”
“No,” Trey says. “Males rarely touch each other.” “Really?” “And females rarely touch males they don’t know or who aren’t a part of their family,” he adds, making me feel awkward all of a sudden. I’ve been holding his hand all day, I think, feeling stupid.”
“I wouldn’t describe it like that. It was . . . hazardous and delicate. I’ve had easier times disarming explosives . . .”
“Pulling his hand back from my face, Trey tenses. “Inamorata is feminine. I would be your inamorato, your male lover.”
“Cuz I look like Barbie.” I reply, knowing they can connect the dots. “Bad girls don’t like Barbie?” Michael asks, both his eyebrows rising. “No. Bad girls want to rip Barbie’s head off and flush it down the toilet,”
“It looks great on her because she has a bangin’ body.”
“Drunken people make me nervous. I dislike their predictable unpredictability—the emotions that are so intense and seem to turn on a dime.”
“Can't someone please tell me what that little, lacy thing is that I keep catching a glimpse of when she bends down?" Wayra asks. "I don't know, but I have to say that I like it more than I should." Jax replies, sounding amused.”
“I’m just saying that when there is little left to lose, the consequences of one’s actions don’t carry the same weight—painful or otherwise.”
“My lips twitch at the mental image of him as a “queen.”
“I am not,' he said, 'having that lummock-de-troll glunching about this place! Trod on all my tomatoes, he did, last year.”
“The power of vision is incredible! Research indicates that children with “future-focused role images” perform far better scholastically and are significantly more competent in handling the challenges of life.2 Teams and organizations with a strong sense of mission significantly outperform those without the strength of vision. According to Dutch sociologist Fred Polak, a primary factor influencing the success of civilizations is the “collective vision” people have of their future.”
“ Your desires, Whether or not you achieve them Will determine who you become.”
“I should get points for not saying every dumb thing that pops in my head.”
“When we pulled up to Marlboro Man’s house, I saw my Camry sitting in his driveway. I didn’t expect it to be there; I figured it was still on Marlboro Man’s parents’ road, sitting all crooked in the ditch where I’d left it the night before. Marlboro Man had already fixed it, fishing it out of the ditch and repairing the mangled tires and probably, knowing him, filling the tank with gas.
“Oh, thank you so much,” I said as we walked toward the front door. “I thought maybe I’d killed it.”
“Aw, it’s fine,” he replied. “But you might want to learn to drive before you get in it again.” He flashed his mischievous grin.
I slugged him in the arm as he laughed. Then he lunged at me, grabbing my arms and using his leg to sweep my supporting leg right out from under me. Within an instant, he had me on the ground, right on the soft, green grass of his front yard. I shrieked and screamed, trying in vain to wrestle my way out of his playful grasp, but my wimpy upper body was no match for his impossible strength. He tickled me, and being the most ticklish human in the Northern Hemisphere, I screamed bloody murder. Afraid I’d wet my pants (it was a valid concern), I fought back the only way I knew how--by grabbing and untucking his shirt from his Wranglers…and running my hand up his back, poking at his rib cage.
The tickling suddenly stopped. Marlboro Man propped himself on his elbows, holding my face in his hands. He kissed me passionately and seriously, and what started as a playful wrestling match became an impromptu make-out session in his front yard. It was an unlikely place for such an event, and considering it was at the very beginning of our night together, an unlikely time. But it was also strangely perfect. Because sometime during all the laughing and tickling and wrestling and rolling around in the grass, my worry and concern over my parents’ troubles had magically melted away.
Only when the chiggers began biting did Marlboro Man suggest an alternate plan. “Let’s go inside,” he said. “I’m cooking dinner.” Yummy, I thought. That means steak. And as we walked into the house, I smiled contentedly, realizing that the stress of the previous twenty-four hours had all but disappeared from view. And I knew it, even then: Marlboro Man, not only that night but in the months to come, would prove to be my savior, my distraction, my escape in the midst of troubles, my strength in the face of upheaval, my beauty in times of terrible, heartbreaking ugliness. He held my heart entirely in his hands, this cowboy, and for the first time in my life, despite everything I’d ever believed about independence and feminism and emotional autonomy, I knew I’d be utterly incomplete without him.
Talk about a terrifying moment.”
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