I like 'em big. And stupid. Don't tell my husband.

I looked where he was tapping. "Local Girl Missing, Feared Dead" Beneath it was a photo or me-my most recent school photo. "Oh no." My heart filling with dread, i took the paper from Mr. Smith's hands. "Couldn't they have found a better picture?

All of my characters are a little bit based on people I know in real life. You know when you do that you have to change the character a little bit in case your friend or your relative reads the book, because you don't want them to know you wrote about them... They might get mad.

Cursed?" I offered, my voice croaky because of my unshed tears. "It isn't cursed." John said deliberately, rearranging the chain around my neck, "if you're wearing it. It's blessed.

And generally, when people say good night, they keep their tongues to themselves.

I'm sorry, Heather, but everything was not just fine before I got here. You know how I know that? Because you're dead. Okay? You are dead. Dead people don't have lockers, or best friends, or boyfriends. You know why? Because they're dead.-Suze Simon

Because when you love something, you want to do it all the time, even if no one is paying you for it. At least that's how I felt about drawing.