The journal and Gansey were clearly long acquainted, and he wanted her to know. This is me. The real me.

It seemed like the best weapons in my life had always been the most innocuous: empty plastic bins, a blank CD, an unmarked syringe, my smile in a dark room.

When does it happen?" "It already has," Calla replied. Her eyes opened and fixed on Blue. "And it hasn't yet. Time' circular, chicken. We use the same parts of it over and over. Some of us more than others.

This car was a very pretty lie.

the intermittent breeze carried her scent to me again and again , singing in another language of memories from another form .

Then Maura made something with butter and Calla made something with bacon and Blue steamed broccoli in self-defense.

Sam, I really want to buy a red coffee pot, if they exist," Grace said. "I'll find you one