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 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 MarchettaEveryone had told him to be strong for her, but Finnikin didn't know how to be strong for himself.
Melina MarchettaYou can know someone all your life, like your parents or family, but Iโll tell you this, Ned. Thereโs an expression on their face, or a tone in their voice, or a way they walk, that youโve never ever seen before. Like theyโve kept it hidden. Until their brother dies. Or their son. I remember those days and they were like these strangers and I wanted to say, Who are you people?
Melina Marchetta