“Chase nuzzled the carpet with his cheek. “You’re my new best friend.”
“I don’t know what surprised me more: the part where Chase completely gave us away, the part where he got mad at his dad, or the part where he called me his friend.”
“Wow.” Chase looked pleased with himself. “If I had known that teaching would get you to listen to me, I would’ve tried this much earlier.” “Well, you’re a better teacher than Hansel,” I said. “Can you tell Hansel that?” Chase grinned. “Can I be there when you tell Hansel that?”
“Rory, are you okay?” Lena asked. “Yeah, you’ve been sighing a lot.” Chase was so concerned he even put down his fudge. “Do you have a crush on me too?” I stared at him incredulously, not sure I had heard him right, and Melodie said, “You are remarkably self-involved.” Chase looked insulted. “Adelaide sighed a lot right before she said she had a crush on me.” “She had to tell you?” Lena said, surprised. I snorted. “That’s totally it. It was the paint on your face. ‘My heart awakens in sight of your green skin/as clean and warty as a toad’s has ever been—’” I said in my best reciting voice, and we all laughed.”
“Go,” Chase said. “Crawl under the door. I’ll try to buy you some time.” Obviously, someone woke up in a self-sacrificing mood.”
“I’d been to ten schools in the last three years.”
“Nickie was so tired of the Crisis. It had been going on now for months. On TV and the radio, it was all you ever heard about: how Our Side and Their Side had come almost, but not quite, to the point of declaring all-out war. In the last week or so, the radio had started broadcasting frightening instructions every hour: “In the event of a declaration of war or a large-scale terrorist attack, cities will be evacuated in an orderly fashion…. Residents will be directed to safe locations…. Citizens should remain calm….”
“I could never live like this," I whispered to Luka.
"No," he agreed. "I've seen you grovel. It's not very convincing.”
“Reflexiona en lo que significa la muerte. Es una pérdida, trágica por irreversible. ¿A quién pierde el que muere? ¿A sí mismo? No, porque el muerto ha dejado de existir y quien no existe no puede perder nada. La muerte es asunto de los vivos: es la pérdida de un ser querido.”
“A fool may scrawl on a slate and if no one has the wit to wipe it clean for a thousand years, the scrawl becomes the wisdom of ages.”
“No story was just a story, though. It was a suitcase stuffed with secrets.”
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