“They turned to Angel. "We will call you Little One," the leader said, obviously deciding to dispense with the whole confusing name thing."Okay," said Angel agreeably. "I'll call you Guy in a White Lab Coat." He frowned."That can be his Indian name," I suggested.”

“The other Max looked at me, and her eyes narrowed. 'They say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,' she said snidely. 'So I guess you're really sucking up.''Who are you?' I gasped, my eyes wide. 'You're an impostor!''No she isn't.' The little creepy one, Angel, turned to look at me. Her arm was still bleeding where Ari had bitten it. 'You are.'I swallowed my anger. Who did she think she was, her and her stupid dog? I gave a concerned smile. 'But Angel,' I said, sincerity dripping from my voice, 'how can you say that? You know who I am.''I think I'm Angel,' she said. 'And my dog isn't stupid. You're the stupid one, to think that you could fool us. I can read minds, you idiot.”

“You're gonna fall now,' I heard Angel say in a normal voice. I swung my head to see gravely watching an Eraser who looked confused, paralyzed. Angel shifted her gaze to the water below. Fear entered the Eraser's eyes, and his wings folded. He dropped like a rock.You're getting scary, you know that?'I said to Angel, not really kidding. I mean, making an Eraser drop right out of the sky just by telling him to - jeez.”

“Angel?"Yeah?" she looked up, all blue-eyed innocence.I felt stupid, but... "Can Total, um, talk?"Uh-huh," Angel said casually, squeezing water out of her hair.I stared at her. "He talks. Total talks, and you didn't tell me?"Well..." Angel looked for him, saw he was pretty far away, and lowered her voice. "Don't tell him I said this, but he's actually not that interesting.”

“You could have gotten a car with GPS," Total said helpfully.Yes," I said "Or we could have brought along a dog that doesn't talk." I gave Angel a pointed look, and she smiled, well, angelically, at me.Total huffed, offended at me and climbed into her lap...”

“A PoemBy Max White is the color of little bunnies with pink noses. White is the color of fluffy clouds fluffing their way across the sky. White is the color of angel's wings and Angel's wings. White is the color of brand-new ankle socks fresh out of the bag. White is the color of crisp sheets in schmancy hotels. White is the color of every last freaking, gol-danged thing you see for endless miles and miles if you happen to be in Antarctica trying to save the world, which now you aren't so sure you can do because you feel like if you see any more whiteness-Wonder Bread, someone's underwear, teeth-you will completely and totally lose your ever-lovin' mind and wind up pushing a grocery cart full of empty cans around New York City, muttering to yourself. That was my first poem ever. Okay, so it's not Shakespeare, but I liked it.”

“When my son, Jack, was four, I had to make a trip to Los Angeles. I asked him if he was going to miss me. 'Not so much,' Jack told me. 'You're not going to miss me?' I said. Jack shook his head, and he said, 'Love means you can never be apart.”