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You think I need to be rescued? I think it doesn't hurt to let someone else do the rescuing every now and then, when your own armor starts to get banged up.

Rachel Vincent

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Rachel Vincent
Someone
Banged
Need
Rescuing
Needs
Rescued
Every
Armor
Think
Starts
Thinking
Hurt
Doesn
Else

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I wanted a do over. A time machine. That magic wand. But real life didn't have any easy outs, and very few happily-ever-afters. The real world was more like a Choose Your Own Adventure book, with most of the choices ripped out before you even opened the cover.
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Some things are private. Some things needed to be said, even when the person who needed to hear them couldn’t hear anything. Ever again.
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Exactly what part of that is supposed to make me feel better? Though, honestly, hearing that she was jealous of me did make me feel a teeny, tiny bit better.
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Screw this. He’d blown his shot at nice-and-easy, which only left quick-and-brutal—my favorite way to play.
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But all I said, as I dug a five from my pocket to pay for my soda, was, You have a friend? Tod scowled. Well, I wouldn't call him a friend according to the traditional definition, but in the sense that he imposes on me constantly and isn't afraid to point out my flaws, I'd say he qualifies. Sounds more like a cousin.
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Come on, Kaylee, before I choke on testosterone and melodrama.
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Marc didn’t want to win by default. He wanted to win for real. Forever.
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Had I just begged for an audience with Death?
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Wow. What would you do if I said I was angry?' 'I would make fire rain from the heavens to smite your enemies with the flames of our shared rage.
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I was fine with that. The very idea of Death knowing my name made my skin crawl. Even if this particular Death was only one of many, and almost too pretty to look at.
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Are you going to deliver whatever threat Avari sent you with, or are we going to have to start guessing? Tod said. I gotta warn you, I'm insanely good at charades.
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It was an addiction. A pointless, self-destructive addiction. But really, is there any other kind?
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Jace. This can't happen. I closed my eyes, thinking it would be easier to say without him looking back at me. But it wasn't. This isn't about us. I can't leave Marc.
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A smart woman would have shut up. Did I? Hell no. Intelligence is overrated anyway.
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But I had no plans to end my own life, and accidents couldn't be predicted. Neither could murder, unless my aunt and uncle were planning to take me out themselves.
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Just FYI, in your case, I think it’s okay to fear the reaper.
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His name's Nash. Aunt Val took a butter knife from the silverware drawer. What year is he? I groaned inwardly. Senior. ...here we go ... Her smile was a little too enthusiastic. Well that's wonderful! Of course, what she really meant was Rise from the shadows, social leper, and walk in the bright light of acceptance!
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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?
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Not even if you fed me your firstborn, still wet and screaming
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Maybe I won't look so bad when you're not standing next to me.
Rachel Vincent