Either we're a team or we aren't. Either you trust me or you don't.

I don’t understand hate. I’ve seen its power. I’ve known its wrath. I’ve even felt it coursing through my veins, pushing me on. But I don’t know where it comes from or why it lasts, how it can take hold in some people and grow.

Of course, the downside of attending a fictional school is that our lacrosse team sucks.

"What?" He cut a grin at Kat when he saw the impressed look on her face. "Corporate espionage is my second greatest passion." "With your first being..." Kat prompted. "Gelato," Hale said, and turned back to the group.

That's cool." Hale nodded, unfazed. "But just so you know, that"---he pointed to the piece of metal peeking out from behind the stage---"is a Hurst 5,000 PSI hydraulic spreader-cutter, more commonly know as the Jaws of Life." "So?" "So I'm not a normal boy.

Two days after my dad's funeral, my mom went on a mission. I never understood it until then--that sometimes a spy doesn't need a cover so much as she needs a shield.

Good-bye Dr. Steve,' I said, then climbed the stairs and went to the fifth floor to die.