They came out in a dim, damp basement - a generic sort of place, full of moulding boxes. 'You take me to the nicest places,' Claire said, and sneezed.

Yeah, she was hot, all right, but I think she had the hots for you - kept saying how she saw you over at the Waterhouse last year and you were all, like, wow, amazing. It was like a menage a trois, only you weren't there, thank God.

Anybody else think that was weird?” Shane asked as they got into the car. Eve sent him an exasperated glance; the three of them were, of course, in the backseat. Amelie had the front, with Michael. “Ya think? In general, or in particular?” “Weird that we got through the entire thing, and I didn’t have to hit anybody.” There was a moment of silence. Michael said, as he started the car, “You’re right, Shane. That is strange.

Things that Shane doesn't want on his grave: (1.) I thought it wasn't loaded. (2.) Hand me a match so I can check the gas tank. (3.) Killed over Ice Cream

life is a work in progress.

Pics or it didn't happen." "Dude, little busy for pics. You know, throwing flame.

Why was it the hot mean girls always ran in packs, like hyenas?