“And now here he was in my kitchen. Smelling like apple pies and looking at me with a direct seriousness that made him even cuter. The bruising spreading up the side of his face had halted, and under it he was very pretty. Not jock-pretty, or the hurtful kind of pretty that tells you a guy is too busy taking care of his royal self to think about you.”
“This possibility was not flattering to me; it was terrifying. There were other things a guy could think I was, and he wouldn't be entirely wrong - nice, or loyal, or maybe interesting. Not that I was always any of those thing, but in certain situations, it was conceivable. But to be seen as pretty was to be fundamentally misunderstood. First of all, I wasn't pretty, and on top of that I didn't take care of myself like a pretty girl did; I wasn't even one of the unpretty girls who passes as pretty through effort and association. If a guy believed my value to lie in my looks, it meant either that he'd somehow been mislead and would eventually be disappointed, or that he had very low standards.”
“I thought you'd like it," he said, seeming hurt. "You look very pretty.”
“He smelled like smoke too, and under it was the edge of apple pies-spice and goodness. Jesus. Even after all that he smelled like a bakery.”
“He turned to face her again, his late-pretty composure crumbling. "But you're...""Pretty? Think again." She smiled. "I'm Tally Youngbood. My mind is very ugly. And I'm taking your car.”
“Are you serious?" She asked. "Are you telling me you've got superpowers? 'Cause that'd be pretty much be made of awesome." She grinned at me and shook in her excited, trembly way."Um. Yeah. Kind of. I mean, I'm just learning how to use them, and they're kind of fickle--but they came in handy tonight, didn't they?""Heck, yeah, they did!" April squealed. "Did you see the look on that guy's face when he hit the ground? Seriously, that was the coolest thing ever. He was all like, 'come here defenseless little girl,' and you were like,'BAM! Take that suck-face! I've got superpowers!”