I flipped down the visor so I could check myself in the mirror, and something small and heavy dropped into my lap. I froze, my breath stuck in my throat. What—? Gingerly, I looked down. It wasn’t a grenade. It was a key ring. One key was for this van. I looked at it blankly. “Well, that’ll simplify things,” Fang said.

Just for fun I flew in huge banking arcs, taking deep breaths, enjoying the feel of my newly weightless hair. The stylist had called it “wind tossed.” If only she knew.

Pick a tree. I'll carve our initials into it." -Fang

You could have gotten a car with GPS," Total said helpfully. Yes," I said "Or we could have brought along a dog that doesn't talk." I gave Angel a pointed look, and she smiled, well, angelically, at me. Total huffed, offended at me and climbed into her lap.

My life would never contain a convenient, pain-saving plan when it could stretch a problem out into an endless agony of uncertainty and torture.

Fang: When do I get out of here? Max: They say a week. Fang: So, like, tomorrow? Max: That's what I'm thinking.

I don't think of myself as a writer.