“Fancy clipped a scrap of newsprint to her canvas and wrote, I don't have friends.Ilan's hand covered hers briefly as he plucked the charcoal from her hand and wrote beneath her words, you have me.”

“When Fancy still didn't answer, he took her hand, and with his red paintbrush, he wrote 'please' into her palm.”

“I caught her red-handed with her hands down his pants.""You did not," Fancy told Madda sternly, with as much dignity as she was able. "It was just one hand.”

“But what if the monsters come?""Fancy." Kit looked away from the drama to stare at her sister, surprised. "We are the monsters.”

“How did you get out of the suicide door?" Her disbelief was a living, pettable thing."Magic."Her eyes narrowed. "There is no magic.""Maybe not for you. But I'm from out of town.”

“Trust. Affection. Respect." I shoved her tainted after-school snack across the table. "It must be hard to think of qualities you don't possess.”

“If I can't, then I'll paint the walls of her house red with my blood.”