“You’re very powerful, Clara,” Dad says. “Even for a Triplare, you’re remarkable. Your connection is strong and steady.”

“You’re not . . . normal, Clara. You try to pretend you are. But you’re not. You talked to a grizzly bear, and it obeyed you. Birds follow you like a Disney cartoon, or haven’t you noticed? And for a while after you came back from Idaho Falls, Wendy thought you were on the run from someone or something. You’re good at everything you try. You ride a horse like you were born in the saddle, you ski perfect parallel turns your first time on the hill, you apparently speak fluent French and Korean and who knows what else. Yesterday I noticed that your eyebrows kind of glitter in the sun. And there’s something about the way you move, something that’s beyond graceful, something that’s beyond human, even. It’s like you’re . . . something else.”

“I can’t believe you’re old enough to have your purpose,” Mom says with a sigh. “Makes me feel old.”“You are old.”

“Have a nice life, Clara,” he says. “You deserve to be happy.”

“You like me, Clara, he says. "I know you do.”

“Clara's mother: Yes, and what could possible be more important to your life right now than Christian? Clara: I'm going out with Tucker.”

“I think you must be some kind of a freak. Either that or you’re trying toconvert me to your secret horse religion.”“Darn, you got me,” she says theatrically. “You thwarted my evil plan.”