Teens Like A Lot Of The Same

Al's Voice Was Faint But Resolute. "stand Up. Try To Look Sexy." "in A Bedsheet?" I Complained, Running My Hands Down It. "how Can I Look Sexy In A Bedsheet?" He Cleared His Throat, And I Grimaced. "never Mind.

Trent, Do You Have Any Weapons? Like A Gun?” He Looked At Me In Disgust. “you’re Here To Protect Me,” He Said As He Closed The Distance Between Us And Stood Beside Me. “you Didn’t Bring A Weapon?” “yeah, I Brought A Weapon,” I Snapped As I Brought My Splat Gun Out And Aimed It At The Ceiling Where The Sounds Were Coming From. “i Just Thought That Since You’re A Freaking Murderer You Might Have A Gun, Too (...)

My Mother Isn't Crazy. She Simply Has A Harder Time Than Most Reconciling Her Reality With Everyone Else's Reality.

I Grew Up Reading Sf In The 70s And 80s, And I Like Fast, Thought-provoking Plots That Take You Places In Fully Realized Worlds.

[jenks]"i Think You're All Screwy In The Head," He Said When Bis Nodded His Encouragement. "but Go Ahead. I've Got Quen's Number In My Phone. I'll Call Him If You Both Explode In A Flash Of Black Underwear And Money So I Won't Have To Fly All The Way Home.