I don't like bullies. No one has a right to take or to hurt just because they can.

My iPod rumbles again. It's not actually an iPod. It doesn't play any music and the earbuds are just for show. It's a gadget that Sandor put together in his lab. It's my Mogadorian detector. I call it my iMog.

No more, no less. I'm an idiot. I really need to let this crush go.

If you ever know a man who tries to drown his sorrows, kindly inform him his sorrows know how to swim.

Check this out,” Nine says. He holds up a small purple stone and then places it on the back of his hand. The stone slides into his hand—through it. Nine turns his hand over just as the stone pops out in his palm. “Pretty cool, right?” he asks me, waggling his eyebrows. “Uh, but what is it supposed to do?” Eight asks, looking up from his own Chest. “I dunno. Impress girls?” Nine looks over at me. “Did it work?” “Um . . .” I hesitate, trying not to roll my eyes too hard. “Not really. But, I’ve seen guys teleport so I’m kind of hard to impress.” “Tough crowd.

I drop the other Chest to the ground in shock. "What number are you? I'm Four." He squints at me and then offers his hand. "I'm Nine. Good job staying alive, Number Four.

And that’s about all any of us can really hope for, to die with our dignity, to die with honor and valor. To die knowing we did everything we could.