I see a few hands stretching out to me at the edge of the net, so I grabbed the first one I could reach and pull myself across. I roll off, and would have fallen face-first onto a wood floor if he had not caught me. "He" is the young man attached to the hand I grabbed. He has a spare upper lip and a full lower lip. His eyes are so deep-set that his eyelashes touch the skin under his eyebrows, and they are dark blue, a dreaming, sleeping, waiting color.

You are far less likely to soil your pants and cry for your mother if you’re prepared to defend yourself.

Insurgent, he says. Noun. A person who acts in opposition to the established authority, who is not necessarily regarded as a belligerent.

I would be shocked by the lack of security if we were not at Amity headquarters. They often straddle the line between trust and stupidity.

I was so afraid that we would just keep colliding over and over again if we stayed together, and that eventually the impact would break me. But now I know I am like the blade and he is like the whetstone- I am too strong to break so easily, and I become better, sharper, every time I touch him.

I smirk as Peter misses again. I can't help myself. "Hey, Peter," I say, " Remember what a target is?

i like to think that im helping them by hating them