I don’t know where to look or how to feel or whether to call someone for help. She is pitched forward, words spouting, blending with the water’s roar. Over and over and over – I HATE YOU! Under my breath, I join her in measured triplets – I hate you, I hate you, I hate you! – each word with its own beat, its own moment.

You never want your doctor to think you are normal, especially not if your doctor’s naked body has spent so many nights curled around yours like a question mark.

Every summer, there was a blood-trail running from the bridge over the river to the shed in Danny’s backyard.

All summer long, the atmosphere pulses with the sense that anything, at any point, can happen. I love the island for this reason.

She was my best friend in the world, but we fought ferociously, like feral cats, several times a week.