“Cal says, "Do you want to see my Megazord? You'll have to come to my room because it's defending a city and if I move it, everyone will die.”

“It's all right, Tessa, you can go. We love you. You can go now.''Why are you saying that?''She might need permission to die, Cal.''I don't want her to. She doesn't have my permission.”

“I want to die in my own way. It's my illness, my death, my choice. This is what saying yes means.”

“Cal says that humans are made from the nuclear ash of dead stars. He says that when I die, I'll return to dust, glitter,rain. If thats true, I want to be buried right here under this tree. Its roots will reach into the soft mess of my body and suck me dry. I'll be re-formed as apple blossom. I'll drift down in the spring like confetti and cling to my family's shoes. They'll carry me in their pockets to help them sleep. What dreams will they have then?”

“I want a big dark room you can barely move in, with bodies grinding close together. I want to hear a thousand songs played incredibly loud. I want to dance so fast that my hair grows long enough to trample on. I want my voice to be thunderous above the throb of bass. I want to get so hot that I have to crunch ice in my mouth.”

“Maybe you should say goodbye, Cal.''No.''It might be important.''It might make her die.”

“Should we say something?’ Cal asks.‘Goodbye, bird?’ I suggest.He nods. ‘Goodbye, bird. Thank you for coming. And good luck.”