He smiled at my reaction, the stupid smile of his that was like he knew something you didn’t. And he knew something I didn’t pretty much all the time, so it was pretty much every smile on his face.

Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Seriously, did I look like some sort of pyscho assassin? Maybe it was the pink sneakers. Or the heart earrings?

I'm fine." It's a lie. I am not fine. My head is a symphony of pain, a sadistic master maestro conducting an opus of excruciating, devastating perfecting.

Apparently being a mermaid is dead dull. I watched The Little Mermaid with her once a few years ago—she thought it was freaking hilarious. She couldn’t stop laughing about the shell-bra thing, given that mermaids aren’t mammals. Plus, as she put it, Prince Eric was far too hairy and “peach colored” for her taste. I always thought he was pretty hot, but then again, I am a mammal.

Oh relax." I waved my hand dismissively. "If he wanted to kill me, he already would have. I brought him all these sharp pencils, ideal for stabbing, and he's been a perfect gentleman.

Re-forming after the chaos,” I said, remembering Raquel’s words. “Choosing what we’ll do with how things are now, who we’ll be in this new world where the only magic left is what we make ourselves.

Now, now, you aren't afraid of monsters in the dark, are you?" I caught a flash of her eyes, winking wickedly at me. "No," I said, shivering. After all, I was one of them.