Mom asked for a cupcake miracle? Well, here comes the freaking holy angel of icing, at your service. --Hudson

Angel icing? That's the craziest, corniest, most whack-ass stuff I've heard in my life

In your entire life, you can probably count your true friends on one hand. Maybe even on one finger. Those are the friends you need to cherish, and I wouldn't trade one of them for a hundred of the other kind. I'd rather be completely alone than with a bunch of people who aren't real. People who are just passing time.

See, some people politely encourage their tone-deaf friends to sing. Some people even convince them to go on live television and audition for national competitions. But me? I am not that friend.

I follow the path we’ve taken so many times this summer – across the front, down the street, cut back through a neighbor’s yard, down the stairs to the beach, past the pier, through the campfire labyrinth, up to the deck of the Shack, and straight into Sam’s arms.
Without speaking, he kisses me hard on the mouth and I kiss him back, sobbing and crumpling into his chest like a broken puppet.

I'm not sure if you even want me around or if you just feel sorry for me. I'm not sure of anything.

No one wants to do it with a chick who smells like bacon."

Her brow creases. "Everybody loves bacon.