Something doesn't look right," Vee said. "Is the tire supposed to look like that?" I banged my head against the nearest tree trunk. "So we've got a flat," Vee said. "What now?

I forced a smile. It was the one I'd been practicing all morning. It felt tight at the edges and brittle everywhere in between.

Patch wasn't the kind of guy mothers smiled on. He was the kind of guy they changed the house locks for.

Patch is the last person you want to antagoonize. He doesn't hold grudges because the people who cross him tend to disappear quickly.

Humans are vulnerable, because they’re capable of being hurt.

I took three steps back; he nudged the door closed with his foot. “You like Mexican?” he asked. “I—” I’d like to know what you’re doing inside my house! “Tacos?” “Tacos?” I echoed. This seemed to amuse him. “Tomatoes, lettuce, cheese.” “I know what a taco is!

Nora: What are you planning? Patch: I wouldn't call this planning. I'd call this throwing a Hail Mary with seconds left on the clock.