“As Tristan left the darkroom he heard Lacey’s soap opera voice. “And so our two heroes part,” she said, “blinded by love, neither of them listening to the wise and beautiful Lacey”—she hummed a little—“who, by the way, is getting a broken heart of her own. But who cares about Lacey?” she asked sadly. “Who cares about Lacey?”

“She spoke quietly then, the tiniest crack in her voice, and all at once Lacey Pemerton was not Lacey Pemberton. She was just—like, a person.”

“You have to gooo," Lacey says."She doesn't have to," Noah says. "If she can't handle it, she can't handle it.”

“There's something about her," Caire said in a low voice. "She cares for everyone about her, yet neglects herself. I want to be the one who cares for her.”

“[at the hospital]"What do you think's taking them so long?"[...]"Well," I say "They obviously don't think it's a big deal or they would have carted you right back here.""Or," Lacey says, "they probably know I'm going to die and so they're leaving me out here because they need to help the people who actually have a chance.""Lacey," I say. "Did you see them bringing in the guys who was bleeding profusely from the head?""Yes," she says."If that guy has a chance, then you definitely do.”

“Lacey was just as happy alone as with company. When she was alone, she was potential; with others she was realized. Alone, she was self-contained, her tightly spinning magnetic energy oscillating around her. When in company, she had invisible tethers to anyone in the room: as they moved away, she pulled them in.”