Philip Sharpe was a soldier in God's army," says the minister. "Now he marches with the angels.

They say that nameless things change constantly—that names fix them in place like pins.

Farewell, Father," she said. He fell back upon his chair, choking. She laughed, not with mirth or even mockery, but something that was closer to a sob. "You crafted me so sharp, I cut even myself.

We have about three hours of homework a night, and our evening study period is only two hours, so if you want to spend the break at half-past-nine not freaking out, you have to cram. I'm not sure that the picture of the wide-eyed zombie girl biting out the brains of senior douchebag James Page is part of Sam's homework, bit if it is, his physics teacher is awesome.

He wondered whether growing up was learning that most stories turned out to be lies.

Mine. The language of love is like that, possessive. That should be the first warning that it's not going to encourage anyone's betterment.

It’s hard to look at Barron now, but I do. He’s smirking. His black hair and black suit make him into a shadow, as if I conjured some dark mirror of myself.