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.

"Cammie!" I'll never forget the tone of Macey's voice in that moment. "Cam," she said slowly, moving toward me, "I know how it feels to be watched every second of every day. I know what it's like to trust fewer and fewer people until it seems like you are completely alone in the world. I know you think the only things that are left in your life are the bad things. I know what you're feeling, Cam." Her hands were on my shoulders. Her blue eyes were staring into mine. "I know."

Lies," Mr Solomon said the next morning as he walked into the classroom. "We tell them to our friends," he said. "We tell them to our enemies. And eventually...we tell them to ourselves.

Seriously", Macey snapped. "go. Kiss. A baby" "can you believe her?" Preston asked, coking his head towards macey." everytime she sees me, all she does is call me baby and talk about kissing." Macey looked like she wanted to kill him. But I kind of wanted to laugh.

Unusual financial activity: none, unless you count the fact that someone in the family is way too into Civil War biographies. (Can this be a possible indication of Confederate insurgents still living and working in Virginia? Must research further.)

the only way Bex would miss this would be if she were unconscious. And tied up. And in a concrete bunker. In Siberia.

And so that means..." "We have to rob the Henley," Simon said. Kat sank onto a truly uncomfortable sofa. "Again.