“I stood there watching Phoebe arrange the pillows and the sheets. She isn't thinking that I... I mean, she doesn't think that she and I would... WHAT?”

“She was thinking what I think she was thinking, wasn't she?”

“I don't think she doesn't believe she can die. I think, just like you always did, she believes there are things worth dying for.”

“Mira Levenson. Aged twelve. Looks, long dark shiny hair, dark brown eyes (almost black), brown skin. Beautiful. Favorite colour, copper orange, I think. Personality, clever, bright, serious, shy, funny without realizing it, holds back her thoughts, mystery girl, arty. What I've noticed: she's stronger than she thinks she is; she doesn't speak much ay school. What I know: she's got a loud laugh (when she lets it out). Her best friend is Millie Lockhart. She doesn't need Millie as much as she thinks she does. Her grandmother is dying and she loves her. She started talking in Pat Print's class. I know she doesn't know how much I think of her, how much I miss her if she's not around. What I think she thinks about me is that I'm a bit of a joker, but I'm deadly serious.Deer...apple...green...sea...See you on Friday!LoveJidé”

“What do you think she would say about my Match?" I ask him. "About what happened today?" He's quiet, and I wait. "I think she would ask you if you wondered.”

“I saw her insides.”“Her insides? She got hurt?”“Ew, no. That would have been cool though. I mean her insides, like what she was thinking on the inside of her brain.”