Miss Lynn came around the corner of the row of lockers,glaring daggers. No, daggers would be too delicate a weapon for her.Glaring sledgehammers was probably more appropriate.

So, we’ve got a problem,” I said. “What?” Lend yelled. “We’ve got a problem!” I shouted. “No, I heard that. I mean, what’s the problem now?

We linked hands—my ex-boyfriend, my boyfriend, and my former friend-then-enemy-then friend and I—and walked through a door to see if maybe empty carbs were good for something after all.

-'I don't see what good it's going to do for you to waltz back in there and--' -'Can I tango back in there, instead? So much sexier than the waltz.

Yes, I have a driver's license." I leaned back against the wall, sighing. "Man, that must be so cool." "It ranks right up there with lockers. In fact, sometimes I put my license inside my locker, and it's so cool I worry that the whole thing might explode with the sheer coolness of it all.

Don't go alone," Lend said, his voice tight with concern. "I'll take Jack." "Oh, wonderful, take the other psychotic guy in your life to go find the first one.

Planning is not my friend. Impulse is.