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That's your solution? Have a cookie?' Astrid asked. 'No, my solution is to run down to the beach and hide out until this is all over,' Sam said. 'But a cookie never hurts.

Michael Grant

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Michael Grant
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So, Diana thought, that was the bait she had to lay out for Jack. Of course. What else? He might lust for Diana, and long for Brianna, but Jack’s true love was made of silicon.
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The light of day showed you the limits of possibility. But walk through the dark, the absolute, total darkness, and the possibilities were limitless.
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But when reality was hopeless, fantasy became more and more necessary.
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Fear was about possibilities. Not things that happened. Things that might.
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Sometimes I think He looks down and says, Wow, look what those idiots are up to now. I guess I better help them along a little.
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I've never been able to grow an organ back, Lana said. Last time I tried... Let's just hope you don't end up with whip eyes.
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Because that, more than any monster, was what Sam had feared: that he was weak and cowardly. He had a terrible fear of being afraid.
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No, no, no, so not getting the point of fear. Because fear wasn't about what made sense. Fear was about possibilities. Not things that happened. Things that might.
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Anyway GONE. My goal in writing GONE To creep you out. To make you stay up all night reading then roll into school tired the next day so that you totally blow the big test and end up dropping out of school. GONE. Imagine a world where every adult vanishes in an instant.
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It's not about who's got powers, morons. It's about who's not afraid. And who's going to do what has to be done.
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We're sitting in the dark willing to sell our souls for another peppermint with enough uranium to give a terrorist a wet dream. - Diana
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One minute the teacher was talking about the Civil War. And the next minute he was gone. There. Gone. No 'poof.' No flash of light. No explosion.
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And then the turbines generate electricity that goes into the whole town. You mean they aren't powered by giant hamsters on wheels? I was misinformed.
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The point is,” Caine continued, “you and I share something in common, Sam. We were born just three minutes apart.” Sam felt a tingle go up his spine. “Three minutes,” Caine said, moving closer. “You go first. And then me.” “No,” Sam said. “It can’t be.” “It can,” Caine said. “It is. And you are… brother.
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And now, at last, gaiaphage and Nemesis stood facing each other. “Why didn’t you just . . . fade?” Gaia demanded plaintively. “You hit me,” Nemesis said. It was a little boy’s voice coming from Caine’s mouth. “And that’s not okay.
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Sam was starting to feel anxious. Nutella and noodles were fine. Great in fact. Miraculous. But he'd been hoping for more food more water more medicine something. It was absurdly like Christmas morning when he was little: hoping for something he couldn't even put a name to. A game changer. Something...amazing.
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The gaiaphage. That's the other word they use. 'Gaia,' as in world. 'Phage,' as in a worm or something that eats something up. I'm going to go way out on a limb here and say I don't think something that calls itself a 'world eater' is a good thing.
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Sam, there comes a time when the world no longer needs heroes. And then the true hero knows to walk away.
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Oh, Snap, I say. What? Sorry. I was flashing back to 2005.
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