Like so many aspiring writers who still have boxes of things they've written in their parents' houses, I filled notebooks with half-finished poems and stories and first paragraphs of novels that never got written.

Hale." Kat sighed. "The headmaster's car? Really? That's not to cliched for you?" What can I say?" He shrugged. "I'm an old-fashioned guy. Besides, it's a classic for a reason." He leaned against the window. "It's good to see you, Kat." Kat didn't know what to say. It's good to see you, too? Thanks for getting me kicked out? Is it possible you've gotten even hotter? I think I might have missed you?

Mariano the Second had been the son of a fisherman, but he'd suffered from an unfortunate tendency toward seasickness and was forced to find a respectable career that could be safely conducted on dry land. So he built boats. Mariano the Third built bigger boats. And by the time a girl from a very different type of family business arrived at their shopfront on the Mediterranean coast, Mariano the Fourth had built and patented at least half a dozen of the most advanced (and justifiably expensive) watercrafts in the world.

He looked as though I'd just run over his pet puppy (though no actual puppies were harmed in the formation of that metaphor).

And there's a cop over there." "What?" the boy said, glancing at the D.C. police officer that stood at the corner of the street, "You think that guys can do a better job protecting you than I can?" Actually, I thought Liz could have done a better job "protecting" me than he could, but instead I said, "No, I think if you don't leave me alone, I can scream and that cop will arrest you." Somehow the boy seemed to know it was a joke.

She thought she kept seeing him because she wanted to see him," Macey explained. "Ooooh," Bex and Liz sighed together. "It's a by-product of very dramatic kissing," Macey went on like a doctor identifying a common side effect.

Like Cammie is fine," Macey said, then glanced at me. "No offense." "None taken," I said. "I think.