Katarina "Kat" Stratford

— Looking for me?
— Yes, if you're the ladies' room.

— She hates you.
— Oh, I'm touched.

— You do realize that this is your only car, and if you destroy it, I'm not getting you another one.
— Relax, Dad. I printed a comprehensive instruction manual off the Internet. Got nine out of ten stars.

— Hey, what's going on?
— Just wrapping up another day in paradise.
— Listen, about the other day. I just wanted to say... I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone through your bag or stabbed you in the foot.
— Ah, don't sweat it. But let's keep our distance. The doctor said it would heal faster if I reduced the amount of crazy in my life. [He leaves]
— Crazy? I'm not crazy. Yes, I'm talking to myself. It's a sign of genius.

— If she's your little flower, what am I?
— Your my big, tough cactus.

— Here's your chance.
— Ooh, goody.
— Come om. You want me to kiss you.
— The lead singer, yes. You, not so much.

— Let us pray. Thank you, Lord, for this bountiful harvest, and bless the underprivileged and teenage children in new high schools. Amen.
— Okay, Bianca, what gives?
— Kat, please! Okay, Bianca, what gives?
— Well, Daddy, I've been thinking about my faith a lot recently ever since I met this great group of kids at school. Speaking of which, they invited me to this killer Bible study tonight. Can I go?
— And the Oscar goes to... Bianca Stratford for Lying to Her Farther!
— Zip it, Satan. Dad, I'd really hate to miss it. I think tonight I get my purity ring!
— And I think tonight you'll be home with the purity security!

I'm not that girl. The girl who's turned on by this bad-boy crap. I'm not skipping home to scribble in my journal that maybe you're a vampire.

— Patrick Verona has spent more time in this office than I have.
— For what?
— Here. Let me get his file for you. Oh, wait a minute. It says here it's none of your business.

— Finally! A fully formed female. I am so over freshmen. I do not find retainers hot.
— Are you confused that a fully formed female could kick your ass?

— She's late for curfew!
— Dad, relax. She's at a soccer game. The odds of her being kidnapped and sold into slavery are very slim.

Personal space. Ever heard of it?

Are you sure she isn't here? Maybe we should check again in about two minutes.

— Look, if I wanted to go on a date with him, I'd ask him myself. Feminism, ever heard of it?
— Mm, isn't that the thing that killed romance?