Michelle Sagara West

Allison also hated to shop for anything that wasn’t a book, so after-school mall excursions weren’t social time for Allison; she would simply vanish from the tail end of the pack when the pack passed a bookstore en route to something more interesting, and frequently fail to emerge.

“You’re walking your dog?”
“I’m about to be walked by my dog. Subtle difference.”

“Is she crazy?” Chase asked.
“Oh, probably.”

One of the best things about Nathan was that she could just sit, in silence, without being alone. Sometimes she’d read, and sometimes he’d read; sometimes he’d play video games, and sometimes he’d build things; sometimes they’d just walk aimlessly all over the city, as if footsteps were a kind of writing. It wasn’t that she wasn’t supposed to talk; when she wanted to talk, she did. But if she didn’t, it wasn’t awkward. He was like a quiet, private place.
And that’s the only thing that’s left of him, really.
A quiet, private place.

“Ally,” Emma whispered, “move.”
“I think he wants to shoot you,” Allison replied, voice flat.
“Oh, probably. At this point, I wouldn’t mind shooting myself.”

You could set clocks by Michael. In the Hall household, they did; if Michael rang the doorbell and the clock didn’t say 8:10, someone changed it quickly, and only partly because Michael always looked at clocks and began his quiet fidget if they didn’t show the time he expected them to show.

Some lies, you could make true, if you said them enough.

Lies were something you told other people to make things easier, somehow—hopefully, for them, but often more selfishly for yourself.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” he added, “but what are you doing here at this time of night?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“You could.”
“Great. What are you doing here at this time of night?”
He shrugged again, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Just walking. It’s a good night for it. You?”
“I’m mostly chasing my very annoying dog.”
Eric looked down at Petal, whose stub of a tail had shown no signs whatsoever of slowing down. “Doesn’t seem all that annoying.”
“Yeah? Bend over and let him breathe in your face.”

“And you ran after him? In the dark?”
“I wasn’t carrying scissors.”