In high school, during marathon phone conversations, cheap pizza dinners and long suburban car rides, I began to fall for boys because of who they actually were, or at least who I thought they might become.

Imagine 4 years.
Four years, two suicides, one death, one rape, two pregnancies (one abortion), three overdoses, countless drunken antics, pantsings, spilled food, theft, fights, broken limbs, turf wars–every day, a turf war–six months until graduation and no one gets a medal when they get out. But everything you do here counts.

High school.

You only get to walk variations of the same lines everyone has already drawn for you.

It's fine to have anal sex as long as you're not in high school.

Because I was a diminutive, arty kid, I felt like a misfit in high school - but who doesn't?

I want to coach high school football, and that's always what I've wanted to do.