He just waited until I stopped talking and said, 'Jesus, kid, you're almost a detective. All you need now is a gun, a gut, and three ex-wives. So what's your theory?

You're awfully philosophical for a girl that just got busted.

I feel like I might start crying and that I'm going to cry pee.

Entropy increases. Things fall apart.

How will I ever get out of this labyrinth!" to a margin note written in her loop-heavy cursive: Straight & Fast.

Walt Whitman is HOT! I mean, that guy could sound his barbaric yawps over the roofs of my world any time.

I've read a lot of bad books. I used to review books for a living, and when you're a reviewer you read tons of terrible books.