You...are...a...fridge...with wings,' Fang ground out, punching an Eraser hard with every word. 'We're...freaking...ballet...dancers.

Fang: "Have you guys been playing in the toxic waste again? Been bitten by a radioactive spider? Struck by lightning? Drink a super-soldier serum?"

Reading is not work, not a chore, not a drudgery; reading is the most joyful thing, yet, in the world.

I moved to leave, and Dylan actually grabbed me by my shoulders. I was so surprised that I forgot to karate-chop his elbows and break his arms.

Everything I loved was taken away from me, and I did not die.

Plus her mom was so awesome. She was strict about some things—don’t leave your socks lying around—but so not strict about other things, like calling the cops about my bullet wound.

Who, last time I'd checked, was still on our official archenemy list. (Yes, we have to keep a list. It's kind of sad.)