Stories were wild, wild animals and went off in directions you couldn't expect.

Shout for libraries. Shout for the young readers who use them.

We sure as ruddy heck ain't in Prentisstown no more," I say to Manchee under my breath.

Didn't you finish your chemistry in school?" "You closed the school and burnt all the books." "Ah, so I did.

Cept for Ben, who I can’t describe much further without seeming soft and stupid and like a boy, so I won’t, just to say that I never knew my pa, but if you woke up one day and had a choice of picking one from a selecshun, if someone said, here, then, boy, pick who you want, then Ben wouldn’t be the worst choice you could make that morning.

So the good prince was a murderer and the evil queen wasn't a witch after all.

Too much talking," I say. "Not enough running.