Gazzy sniffed the air. "That's explosives. It smells like Christmas!" Okay, so we've had somewhat untraditional Christmases. With explosives.

His face flushed, and I felt like cheering. "Yes," he said stiffly. "Besides de vings." "Hmm. Besides de vings." Nudge tapped one finger against her chin. "Um..." Her face brightened. "I once ate nine Snickers bars in one sitting. Without barfing. That was a record!" "Hardly a special talent," ter Borcht said witheringly. Nudge was offended. "Yeah? Let's see YOU do it." ... ... "I vill now eat nine Snickers bars," Gazzy said in a perfect, creepy imitation of ter Borcht's voice, "visout bahfing."

Have you been playing in toxic waste lately?

Actually, I'd already briefed him, early this morning. Since we were up at six. Since, at six, the nurse had been overcome with the overwhelming compulsion to take Fang's temperature right then.

Fear is not the answer, not ever.

You can help each other, Max, said the unwelcome voice. You're perfect complements to each other. "Shut up!" I hissed under my breath, and Dylan looked startled. "I didn't say anything." Gritting my teeth, I nodded. "No, I know. It's just-" I decided to take a risk and stare him down. "I hear voices, okay? If you're gonna be here, get used to it. Or else keep your distance.

My style is colloquial storytelling. It's the way we tell stories to one another - it's not writerly, it's not overdone.