If this were a movie, I would bust a secret move so fierce the entire place would be razed to the ground. I'd finish with something snappy like "And don't forget my soda, punk" while I strolled off into the night.

She never utters a sound even when she's crying, and that makes me a little sad. Doesn't seem right. When you cry, people should hear you. The world should stop.

She shrieks above the din. "If you wish a battle, I shall give it. I am the last of my kind. I shall not lie down without a fight.

Please do not strain yourself, Miss Doyle. I won't have my girls going cross-eyed in the name of art.

Think: who has vans, huh? Soccer moms and serial killers.

When I dream, I dream of him.

...dreams were dreams and reality was reality and she felt people were better off understanding the difference.