“Logan Quinn was the kind of guy who could stab me in the eye with a freaking Twizzler.”
“Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!”
“What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.”
“I wouldn't say hate, exactly. You're kind of like fungus, Gwen. After a while, you just start growing on people.”
“Are you OK?" I asked.
"I think so." Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. "But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.”
“Yeah, well this Gypsy girl happens to have a grandma that can curse you so bad that your dick will turn black and fall off, so watch your step, Spartan.”
“Let me walk you to your room," Logan offered in a helpful voice. "You, me, and the Gypsy girl could have our own bonfire tonight."
Daphne and I stared at each other. I rolled my eyes while Daphne sniffed.
"Oh, please," she scoffed. "Like I need a guy to protect me. I'm a Valkyrie, remember? I could pick you up and break your back over my knee, Spartan. Like you were a piñata."
"Kinky," Logan said, smiling at her. "I like it."
She snorted. "Save the smarmy charm for Gwen. We all know that she's the one you're really trying to impress anyway."
We did? Because I hadn't gotten that message at all.”
“Jasmine smirke at the weapon in my hand. "That little toothpick won't save you, Gypsy."
"Touthpick?" Vic muttered in an indignant voice. “Did she just call me a bleeding toothpick? Kill her! Kill her now!”
“I'm a figment of your imagination. You're only imagining that I'm sitting here eating with you. Because I'm just so freaking awesome that people daydream about being seen with me.”
“That was my favorite dagger."
She had a favorite dagger? Seriously? And she thought that I was a freak.”
“She doesn't even know how to kill things properlike? What kind of girl have you given me to, goddess?" Vic protested, fixing his eye on Nike once more.
Nike let out a laugh. " Vic is a little bloodthirsty. You'll get used to it.”
“Can't believe she bloody dropped me again. . .," I heard him mutter.
“Oh, fantastic," Vic muttered. "Just bloody fantastic. The goddess has given me to a bleeding pacifist-”
“My own eyes narrowed. i didn't like being made fun of, not even by a dangerous bad boy like Logan Quinn. "Yeah, well, this Gypsy girl happens to have a grandma who can curse you so bad that your dick will turn black and fall off, so watch your step, Spartan.”
“And I was stuck here at Warrior Freaks R Us.”
“It was better to know what people were really like than put your trust in someone who just wanted to hurt you in the end.”
“her laptop. That’s where the good stuff would be anyway. It always was. Even at my old school, kids had always been frantic when they’d lost their laptops, thinking about all the incriminating stuff that someone might find on them. Like e-mails about how drunk the kids had gotten with their friends the weekend their parents thought they went to band camp. Papers they’d downloaded and plagiarized for AP English. Porn.”
“Arm in arm, we left her room, the beginnings of a real relationship shimmering in the air between us, just like the bright pink sparks fluttering up from the Valkyrie's fingertips.”
“All right, baby," Daphne crooned.
"Talk to Mama and tell me all your secrets. . . .”
“Trading doesn't just reveal your character, it also builds it if you stay in the game long enough.”
“I'll never see you that way again. Because Before this, I didn't know you were essential for me to feel alive.”
“And then I know. I’ve fumbled with my fucked up thoughts long enough to know why I can’t fuck Windsor. If I do, what I feel would be too real—because it won’t be fucking or bagging or laying pipe. It will be making love. And then she will own me forever without even knowing it.”
“Waldo inhaled deeply, staring at the ceiling. It was at times like this that he was at his worst. His mind, while indecisive, was also capable of producing the most detailed, fantastic daydreams imaginable, and with the mysterious disappearance of his grandfather as fodder, his speculations grew even more intense and far-fetched than usual. On the other hand, the logical part of his brain, underdeveloped as it was, went almost entirely untapped in such a situation. Waldo was literally frozen into inaction by his chemical makeup, and this was apparent in the number of cigarettes he lit, the number of sighs he expelled, and the number of times his helpless fingers alternated between nervously tapping the coffee table and running through his unkempt hair.
All that night, Waldo remained awake, deep in unproductive thought, routinely walking back and forth from the living room to the front porch, where he would take a seat in the old-fashioned swing and smoke heavily. The blissful suburban setting, especially on spring nights like this, when the crickets chirped so lustily, and the porch swing creaked so reassuringly in the warm breeze, was perfect for conjuring up bold new fantasies.”
“You need me,” Pen explained. “I’m your lookout. If I see the coppers coming, I’ll make a sound like an owl.”
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