20 minutes later: a girl on Himmel Street. She looks up. She speaks in whisper. 'The sky is soft today, Max. The clouds are so soft and sad, and...' She looks away and crosses her arms. She thinks of her papa going to war and grabs her jacket at each side of her body. 'And it's cold, Max. It's so cold.

You ever hear a dog cry, Steve? You know, howling so loud it's almost unbearable?' He nodded. 'I reckon they howl like that because they're so hungry it hurts, and that's what I feel in me every day of my life. I'm so hungry to be somethin' - to be somebody. You hear me?' He did. 'I'm not lyin' down ever. Not for you. Not for anyone.' I ended it. 'I'm hungry, Steve.' Sometimes I think they're the best words I've ever said. 'I'm hungry.

THE LAST WORDS OF MAX VANDENBURG: You've done enough.

When she came to write her story, she would wonder when the books and the words started to mean not just something, but everything.

A small but noteworthy note. I've seen so many young men over the years who think they're running at other young men. They are not. They are running at me.

I try hard and aim big. People can hate or love my books but they can never accuse me of not trying.

It kills me sometimes, how people die.