It holds no fear for her now, because the shark has been tamed by the soul of a boy. No--the soul of a man.

Roland glares at Connor and Connor glares back. Then he says what he always says at moments like this. "Nice socks." Although Roland doesn't look down right away, it derails him just enough for him to back off. He doesn't check to see if his socks match until he thinks Connor isn't looking. And the moment he does, Connor snickers. Small victories are bet­ter than none.

With hardly any effort at all, she made me feel special. Just like all the other people she toyed with.

I smell fear, he said with a quiet intensity. But not nearly enough.

They were the screams of riders torn apart by the twisted reflections of their own inner selves.

How can you do the right thing when you can't figure out what that is? When all you have before you are choices in various shades of wrong?

Touch is a freaky thing when you're not used to it. It makes you feel all kinds of things.