The dead have a way of becoming saints in the eyes of their survivors.

10:38 AM - Third period. Kaylee has no class this period. I have no one to kill. Coincidence, or fate?

Her dark-eyed glare narrowed on me. "You could have least given him a shirt, Kaylee." "Like you're an expert on when it's appropriate to wear a shirt." Sabine bristled. "This seems headed into girl-fight territory," Tod said. "Should I make popcorn?

I still loved Marc desperately and couldn’t imagine life without him. Jace was…something else. Something I could feel but couldn’t articulate. Something I wanted, and hadn’t been able to resist in my grief-weakened state. He was something that would have to wait.

I'm searching for a shred of humanity in that shriveled tangle of arteries you call a heart.

Dad, I can count the number of normal school days I've had this year on one hand.

“The three of you are enough to drive a mara mad. 'She can wear my shirt,’" she growled in imitation of Nash."No, she can wear my shirt," she said switching to Tod's smoother tone.Then Sabine took off down the hall without a glance at any of us."I have a spare. Come on, Kaylee, before I choke on testosterone and melodrama.”