“They gave her courage. The Pants mysteriously held the attributes of her three best friends, and luckily bravery was one of them. She would give the Pants what meager gifts she had, but courage was the thing she would take.”
“The Pants had absorbed the summer. Maybe it was better that they couldn’t talk. They would let us remember more how we had felt, and less what had actually happened.”
“Still the Pants promised us there was time. Nothing would be lost. There was all year if we needed it. We had all the way until next summer, when we would take out the Traveling Pants and, together or apart, begin again.”
Mom is always gribbling about pants on the floor and shoes on the sofa. She says, “This house doesn’t clean itself, you know.
“Who do you think does everything around here? “Mr. Nobody?
“I don’t get paid to pick up your smelly socks! If I did, I’d be a rich woman.” etc. etc. non stop.
“In a way, I guess I thought I didn’t really need to concern myself with this type of thing because compared to him, I don’t come across as ‘threatening,’ you know? I don’t sag my pants or wear my clothes super big. I go to a good school, and have goals and vision and ‘a great head on my shoulders,’ as Mama likes to say.”
“I thought of stuffing the picture into my pants pocket, but it wouldn’t fit. Only when I got to know Bisa Bea better did I learn the truth. She doesn’t like girls in pants or shorts, not even nice ones. She thinks they’re boys’ clothes. Sometimes she has the strangest ideas.”