“A Wrackspurt . . . They’re invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy,” she said. “I thought I felt one zooming around in here.”

“These country chicks, I’m not even kidding you, they’re fucking hard-core. They’ll kill your ass and make it look like an accident. You drag the lakes around here and I promise you, there’s dumb assholes who tried to get laid by the wrong chicks floating at the bottom of it—concrete boots—and I think your girlfriend’s distributing them. Sadistic bitch.”

“One wrong social move---say---like hanging with the wrong person,” she said nastily, “Can make your life around here a living nightmare and I definitely don’t think that you want that.”

“Every second I stand here in your temperature-controlled cell,” Jenna said, “I’m forced to suck down the same recycled air that’s going through your nostrils, and that thought absolutely nauseates me.”

“Here," she said. "This is for you.""I didn't really get you anything," I sputtered. "I mean, I didn't know that you were going to be here, and--""Don't worry. It's your embarrassment at not having the thought that counts.”

“That soft but penetrating voice that caressed your ears and climbed through your brain like a vine.”