I looked around, counting the competition. Sixteen. To win, all I had to do was incapacitate each one, place my hand over their hearts and turn my palm into a flame. Easy. Yeah right.

Everyone at school seems to go by a nickname. Kat, Frosty, Bronx, Boo Bear, Jelly Bean, Freckles.

Give me the effing phone, Strider grumbled, opening his palm and waving his fingers. Effing? William laughed with genuine amusement. You ever realize how polite you get when you're hammered? And you know what they say. A man's true charactor is revealed when he's toasted. So you gotta face facts, man. You're a closet gentlmen. Loser! The heck I am! Even Paris laughed at that.

Bomb', Reyes said, not bothering to look up. 'One of ours?' Maddox insisted... 'Hardly. I know better than to blow myself up,' Reyes sighed.

Anya jumped in front of the man, acting as his shield. “Now, Sabin. He didn’t mean any harm. He’s borderline stupid. You know that.

Sighing, she shut the book with a snap. “All right. You need to vent, so I’ll listen to you vent. But do it quickly, because Rydstorm was about to plunder Sabine with his thick, hard—

He ignored me, thank God, saying to Kat, "Let go of Frosty's leash. You're choking the life out of him." Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits, a sure sign of her aggression. "He deserves to choke. He didn't keep little frosty in his pants this summer." The words snapped like a whip. "He did." Cole snapped back with unwavering confidence. "Not." "Did." "Not!" "Did,"... "Not, not, not!" she shouted with a stomp of her foot. "What are we five?" Cole said. "Six."