“Where'd you go?""The bowels of hell," his voice echoed back. "I thought we could go apartment hunting for you...since you'll be moving here, and all.”

“I'm going to hell, aren't I?""Hopefully not for a few more years.”

“Your pupils are dilated," he said. "I think-""Yes?" I breathed."I think you have a concussion."I blinked. A concussion? That's so not where I thought he was going.”

“Don't you remember? We swore never to go to these things without each other.""That was second grade, Lisa.""Like that makes it okay to ditch a pinkie swear?”

“I thought you called dibs on him.""I did, but you can have him first. After he dumps you, imagine how good I'll look in comparison.""Thanks, that's not insulting at all.”

“Dizziness?""No.""Nausea? Vomiting? Diarrhea?""No, no, and yuck," I said. "Dr. G, can I please be excused?""Not yet. How many fingers am I holding up?""Eleven.""Amelie."I scowled. (...) "Sir, I'm fine. Just let me go to class. Please?"Gunderman unhooked the blood pressure cuff from my arm and looked at me like I'd asked to borrow his credit card. "Young the lady, the fact you want to go to class gives me definite cause for concern.”

“I glared at him. "Matt said he got a pep talk at his test. I don't rate a pep talk?""You want a pep talk?" He made a fist with one hand, then punched it through the air in a victorious motion. "Go get 'em. You've got twenty-eight minutes.""Dude, do not join the pep squad.”