How we cite our quotes: (Chapter.Paragraph)
Quote #4
"Yeah, so, Paulie. Will lost his ID," explains Jane.
Paulie smiles at me. "That's a shame, kid." He hands me a blank sheet of computer paper and says, "I need your full name, your address, date of birth, social, height, weight, and eye color. And a hundred bucks."
"I, uh—" I say, because I don't happen to carry hundred dollar bills around with me. But before I can even form the words, Jane puts five twenties on the counter.
Jane and I sit down on the folding chairs, and together we invent my new identity: My name is Ishmael J. Biafra, my address is 1060 W. Addison Street, the location of Wrigley Field. I've got brown hair, blue eyes. I'm five ten, weigh 160 pounds, my social security number is nine randomly selected numbers, and I turned twenty-two last month. I hand the paper to Paulie, and then he points to a strip of duct tape and tells me to stand there. He holds a digital camera up to his eye and says, "Smile!" I didn't smile for my real driver's license picture, and I'm sure as hell not going to smile for this one. (3.103-106)
Will makes up an identity for his fake ID, but isn't that what he's been doing all along? He kind of likes Jane, but just won't say it. This kid hides how he really feels all the time.
Quote #5
the sick thing is, i'm sure that someday this is going to come back to haunt me. that someday she's going to say i led her on, when the truth is i was only holding her off. i have to set her up with somebody else. soon. it's not me she wants—she just wants anybody who will make it all about her. and i can't be that guy. (4.45)
Because Maura's a girl, things are never going to work out between her and will. It's just not how will rolls. But as her alternate identity, Isaac, she might have a chance. Well, if Maura wasn't such a giant liar…
Quote #6
Which it is just starting to do when my fellow underage Frenchy's pilgrim runs up to me and says, "Who are you?"
I stand up then and say, "Um, I'm Will Grayson."
"W-I-L-L G-R-A-Y-S-O-N?" he says, spelling impossibly fast.
"Uh, yeah," I say. "Why do you ask?"
The kid looks at me for a second, his head turned like he thinks I might be putting him on, and then finally he says, "Because I am also Will Grayson."
"No s***?" I ask.
"Shit," the guy says. I can't decide if he's paranoid or schizophrenic or both, but then he pulls a duct-taped wallet out of his back pocket and shows me an Illinois driver's license. Our middle names are different, at least, but—yeah. (7.19-25)
Okay, this is weird. Two Will Graysons in the same spot? What are the odds? Seriously, how freaked out would you be if you met someone with the same name as you?