What are you doing in there, waxing your mustache?” Iggy yelled, pounding on the bathroom door. I yanked the door open and pushed him backward hard, making him stagger. “I don’t have a mustache, you idiot!” Iggy giggled and put his arms up to protect himself in case I punched him. “And you know what?” I added. “You don’t have one either. Well, maybe in a couple years. You can always hope.” I left him in the hallway, anxiously fingering his upper lip.

Max, you're the last of the hybrids who still has...a soul.' ... 'She doesn't have soul,' Gazzy scoffed. 'Have you ever seen her dance?

I won’t lie to you—it was hilarious. Yes, we were in trouble, yes, this was a disaster, and so one and so forth, but I have to say, seeing those upturned faces, the looks, was bout the best thing that happened to us since we’d come to New York.

He could totally be your boyfriend," [Angel] went on with annoying persistence. "You guys could get married. I could be like a junior bridesmaid. Total could be your flower dog.

My, g**, he was as strong as a team of oxen. That would be strong right?

Dear God," said Nudge under her breath, "I want real parents. But I want them to want me too. I want them to love me. I already love them. Please see what you can do. Thanks very much. Love, Nudge." Okay, so I'm not saying we were pros at this or anything. (Max thoughts)

When I wanted information, it was silent; when I didn't want to hear from it, it got chatty. It was alost as irritating as Fang.