“Not like this vision before us, who was shaking water out of his slightly overlong reddish-brownhair as he leaned over to lay down his board (revealing, as he did so, the fact that beneath hisbaggy swim trunks—so weighted down with water that they had sunk somewhat dangerously lowon his hips—lurked what appeared to be an exceptionally well-formed gluteus maximus)”

“Hey!" Lauren Moffat's voice, sounding noticeably irritated, floated up to us. "What-ew! What's in my hair?"We all three ducked beneath our table so Lauren couldn't see us if she realized what was happening and looked up. I could see her between the slits of the fencing around the balcony, but I knew she couldn't see me. She was shaking out her hair. Becca, crouching across from me, had to put her hands across her mouth to keep from giggling. Jason looked like he was about to pee in his pants, he was trying so hard not to laugh.What's the matter, babe?" Mark came out from beneath the balcony, putting his wallet into his back pocket.There's something--sand or something-in my hair," Lauren said, still fluffing out her hair-which you could tell she didn't want to do, since she flat-ironed it so straight.Mark leaned in closer to examine Lauren's hair. "Looks okay to me," he said. Which just made us laugh harder, until tears were streaming out of the corners of our eyes.”

“He let his mouth linger on mine, neither possessively nor sweetly... like his mouth just belonged there on mine. And he was right. It did. It always had.”

“His hair, at first glance, appears merely dark, but upon closer inspection is actually many strands of chestnut brown, gold, and black. He wears it long, for a guy, not because doingso is “in,” but because he’s too busy with his many interests to remember to get it cut regularly. His eyes seem dark at first glance, as well, but are actually a kaleidoscope ofrussets and mahoganies, flecked here and there with ruby and gold, like twin lakes during an Indian summer, into which you feel as if you could dive and swim forever. Nose: aquiline. Mouth: imminently kissable. Neck: aromatic—an intoxicating blend of Tide from his shirt collar, Gillette shaving foam, and Ivory soap, which together spell: myboyfriend.B–Better. I would have liked more description on what exactly about his mouth you find so imminently kissable.—C. Martinez”

“Don't cry.""How can I not?" I asked him. "You just said you loved me.""Well, why else did you think all of this was happening?" He set the book aside to wrap his arms around me. "The Furies wouldn't be trying to kill you if I didn't love you.""I didn't know," I said. Tears were trickling down my cheeks, but I did nothing to try to stop them. His shirt was absorving most of them. "You never said anything about it. Every time I saw you, you just acted so... wild.""How was I supposed to act?" he asked. "You kept doing things like throwing tea in my face.”

“This resentment you feel toward Father Henrique is another example," Holtzman said. "What did the man ever do to you? Nothing. So he botched that exorcism. It was his first one. He was young. Do you know what I did at my first exorcism?""Ran," Alaric said at the same time as his boss."Thats exactly right," Holtzman went on. "Its extremely frightening to look into the face of evil for the first time.""Not," Alaric said, "as frightening as looking into the face of a man who has willing taken a vow of chastity.”

“I'll tell you what you can do," he said, stopping abruptly. Now he did reach out to grip both my shoulders. But still not to kiss me. Only so he could wheel me around to glare at me some more. "You can leave me alone." Tears sprang once more into my eyes. That's what he wanted from me? For me to stay away from him? This had turned into a greater disaster than when I'd died. And I was still breathing, so that was say something. "I'd like to," I said. All I could hear besides the deep, disapproving timbre of his voice was the drum of my heartbeat in my ears. Stupid girl. Stupid girl. Stupid girl, my heart seemed to be saying. "Except every time I try, you show back up, and act such a... such a..." "Such a what?" he demanded. He seemed to be practically daring me to say. Don't, the voice of my mother warned inside my head. Don't say it. "Jerk.”