Well,” Naomi said cheerfully, “what’s the worst that can happen?” They were silent, considering that, because there were just so many possibilities. But in the end, it was a better idea than Facebook.

Shane padded back to the couch and flopped, sucking on his own can of soda. Eve shot him an exasperated look. “Yeah, man, thanks for bringing me one, too.” The raccoon eye make-up exaggerated her eye roll. “Dork.” “Didn’t know if you wanted zombie dirt sprinkled on it or anything. If you’re eating this week.

I have no idea what that is, but yawn, anyway, just on principle. Eat up. Pancakes is brain food. Apparently not grammar food. Wow.You college girls are mean.

What’s her name? Claire, what’s her name?

Dammit, Michael, get out of my room, you pervert!” Could you even be a pervert if you were dead? She supposed you could, if you had a working body half the time. “I swear, I’m going to start taking my clothes off!” The cold spot stayed resolutely put until she got the hem of her T-shirt all the way up to her bra line, and then faded away. “Chicken,” she said, and paced the room, back and forth.

You’re not going to suck.’’ ‘‘Not at the guitar, anyway,’’ Shane said, deadpan. Claire punched him in the arm. ‘‘Ow.

He had on a funny T-shirt, as usual. Today's featured acartoon figure running from a giant T. rex, and it read EXERCISE: SOME MOTIVATIONREQUIRED.