Rachel,” came a raspy voice from the upper level, and both Trent and I turned. It was Quen, wrapped in a blanket as if it was a death shroud, the black-haired intern at his side, supporting him. His hair was plastered to his skull with sweat, and I could see him wavering as he stood there. “Don’t touch Trenton,” he said, his gravelly voice clear in the hush, “or I’m going to have to come down there…and smack you around.

But he's Rachel Candy!" -Both Jenks and Al

And what’s important to you?” I asked. Marshal thought while we maneuvered around Darth Vader, who was struggling to keep from hitting the wall with his helmet blocking his vision. “Success at work. Having fun doing it. Caring for someone and supporting their interests because you like to see them happy. Having them care about and support yours simply because they want to see you happy.

Teens like a lot of the same things adults do: smart people doing amazing things against awful odds.

I have to save the world tomorrow, and I don't even know what I'm going to wear yet.--Rachel Morgan

You cannot thrash the person who makes you coffee. It's a rule somewhere.

Was using “dead-man’s-toe” morally okay if the man’s relatives had knowingly sold him for parts?