“Oh my God, I can totally see it," says Britt. She scrunches her face into a frown and glares at herself in the mirror. "Jael ... ," she says, in a pretty good imitation of Jael's father's flat, gruff voice. "Jael, money is tight. Do you really need these things?""No, you're right, Dad," says Jael in a chipper, squeaky voice. "It's actually really convenient that I can store all my pens and pencils in my hair. In fact, you know what? I'll just grow my hair a little longer so you don't even have to get me folders this year!”

“Jael returned the lazy smile. "You're not my type.""Well, you're not anybody's type," said Hazael. "No, wait. I take it back. My sword says she'd like to know you better.”

“Are you sure you're okay?" she asks. "Should I call 911 or something?""I'm totally fine," says Rob. "It's going to take a little while to recover, I think. It was like ... an orgasm... times a hundred." He sighs again, and continues to lie on the table."Really?" says Jael. "Like a ..." she isn't sure how she feels about that at all.”

“I just feel like we understood each other.""Oh," says Rob, and nods kind of stiffly."Wait," says Jael. "Are you, like, jealous of a telepathic ram?”

“Jael" It still gives her a strange shiver when he says her name. Like she can almost get a sense of the person he believes she's capable of becoming. A person who deserves an exotic name spoken with reverence. But now he looks a little sad. "If all you ever do is try to avoid pain, you'll never create something truly worthwhile.”

“What do--" Tobias's voice. Tobias! "Oh my God. Oh--" "Spare me your blubbering, okay? Peter says. "She's not dead; she's just paralyzed. It'll only last for about a minute. Now get ready to run." I don't understand. How does Peter know? "Let me carry her," Tobias says. "No. You're a better shot than I am. Take my gun. I'll carry her.”