Someone could cut through the mess in our house and look at it like one might look at rings on a tree or layers of sediment. They'd find the black-and-white hairs of a dog we had when I was six, the acid-washed jeans my mother once wore, the seven blood-soaked pillowcases from the time I skinned my knee. All our family secrets rest in endless piles.
Holly BlackShe canโt help it. She loves the con. I tell myself Iโm not like her, but I have to admit I love it too.
Holly BlackIf they were real, then maybe the world was big enough to have magic in it. And if there was magic โ even bad magic, and Zach knew it was more likely that there was bad magic than any good kind โ then maybe not everyone had to have a story like his father's, a story like the kind all the adults he knew told, one about giving up and growing bitter.
Holly Black