Yes,โ Howie said solemnly. โI can teach you how to be more โstreetโโ. โFor Godโs sakeโฆโ โOr is it โurbanโ? I canโt remember. Anyway, I can teach you, grasshopper. Or hip-hopper.
Barry LygaIt's like this," he'd explained once to Connie. "If someone gave you a single rose, you'd be happy, right?" "Okay," he went on, "Now imagine someone gives you ten thousand roses." "That is a whole lotta roses," she said. "That's too much." "Right. Too much. But more than that, it makes each individual rose much less special, right? It makes it hard to pick one out and say, 'That's the good one.' And it makes you want to just get rid of them all because none of them seem special now." Connie had narrowed her eyes. "Are you saying when you're at school you just want to get rid of everyone?
Barry LygaFear can keep you alive. The trick is not to let it overwhelm you. Not to let it rule you. If youโre afraid, thatโs the universe trying to tell you something. Get away. Donโt run; donโt panic. Just pick up and walk out, calm as you please. Panic makes you stupid.
Barry LygaYou can't rely on love. Love will let you down every time. Every. Single. Time. I don't love Jecca. I don't love Fanboy. But... God, the buts in life will kill you absolutely every time, won't they. I don't love. But I need. I can admit that to myself.
Barry LygaNot according to this," Jazz said, taking the report. "No evidence of sexual activity or anything like it." "Well, there's that," Howie said, sounding relieved. Jazz wondered at that - was it really so much better to be unmolested, but still murdered in a horrible fashion? To die in pain and terror, stripped, left in a field, your fingers cut off? But as long as you weren't raped, well, that was alright, then? Did it really matter at that point?
Barry Lyga