Back in Georgie's attic, he yanks the phone out of the socket and begins scrolling down the names under dialed calls, praying to anyone who will listen. God. Baby Jesus. Saint Thomas the doubter. Saint Whoever, patron saint of losers. Praying, Please, please, don't let it be true. The first name shatters him. The second makes his head spin.
Melina MarchettaShe's tired and leans her head on his shoulder, which is the resting place for all their heads, but when Justine and Siobhan and Francesca use his body so shamelessly he doesn't feel the need to turn his head and press his mouth against their hair.
Melina MarchettaAll I need to understand is the unwritten law of warriors," he said firmly. "And women and children are never sent to do our work without our protection." He pointed to the trees, emphatically. "That's the language I share with them.
Melina MarchettaHe watched as Finnikin swung onto the horse, his sleeve stained with blood. Froi liked the way Finnikin reached behind him and took Evanjalin's hand, placing it around his waist. It made everything seem normal because Finnikin always wanted to touch her.
Melina MarchettaWho do you hang out with?" Natalia asks, looking over my shoulder. She's always done that. Wherever you are, whoever you are, she'll always look over your shoulder to see if there's someone more exciting to speak to. It used to make me feel paranoid.
Melina MarchettaMy old school, St Stellaโs, only goes to Year Ten and most of my friends now go to Pius Senior College, but my mother wouldnโt allow it because she says the girls there leave with limited options and she didnโt bring me up to have limitations placed upon me. If you know my mother, youโll sense thereโs an irony there, based on the fact that she is the Queen of the Limitation Placers in my life.
Melina Marchetta