“Yeah,” Nicole said, her straw noisily hitting thebottom of her Gut Buster. “Well, I would haveappreciated it if you guys had wrecked a little lessstuff. Because my house smelled like smoke formonths. And construction on the Tarantinos’ newgarage starts at eight on the dot every morning, andit’s still going on, and you know how I get if I don’thave my full ten hours of beauty sleep.”“So that’s what happened to your face,” Cody said.“I was wondering.”

“I must have been in the car for a long time because eventually my sister found me there. I was chain-smoking cigarettes and crying still. My sister knocked on the window. I rolled it down. She looked at me with this curious expression. Then, her curiosity turned to anger."Charlie, are you smoking?!"She was so mad. I can't tell you how mad she was."I can't believe you're smoking!"That's when I stopped crying. And started laughing. Because of all the things she could have said right after she got out of there, she picked my smoking. And she got angry about it. And I knew if my sister was angry, then her face wouldn't be that different. And she would be okay."I'm going to tell Mom and Dad, you know?""No, you're not." God, I couldn't stop laughing.When my sister thought about it for a second, I think she figured out why she wouldn't tell Mom or Dad. It's like she suddenly remembered where we were and what had just happened and how crazy our whole conversation was considering at all. Then, she started laughing.But the laughing made her feel sick, so I had to get out of the car and help her into the backseat. I had already set up the pillow and the blanket for her because we figured it was probably best for her to sleep it off a little in the car before we went home.Just before she feel asleep, she said, "Well, it you're going to smoke, crack the window at least."Which made me start laughing again."Charlie, smoking. I can't believe it."Which made me laugh harder, and I said, "I love you."And my sister said, "I love you too. Just stop it with the laughing already.”

“(Frances has gotten out of bed again and come to her parents' room...)'How can the wind have a job?' asked Frances. 'Everybody has a job,' said Father.'I have to go to my office every morning at nine o'clock. That is my job. You have to go to sleep so you can be wide awake for school tomorrow. That is your job.'Frances said, 'I know, but...'Father said, 'I have not finished. If the wind does not blow the curtains, he will be out of a job. If I do not go to the office, I will be out of a job. And if you do not go to sleep now, do you know what will happen to you?''I will be out of a job?' said Frances.'No,' said Father.'I will get a spanking?' said Frances.'Right!' said Father.'Good night!' said Frances, and she went back to her room.”

“But I'll tell you something, Father; you give me Regan's identical twin: same face, same voice, same smell, same everything down to the way she dots her i's, and still I'd know in a second that it wasn't really her! I'd know it! I'd know it in my gut and I'm telling you I know that thing upstairs is not my daughter! I know it! I know!”

“As soon as we were inside, Edwart's family rushed to greet me. What seemed like thirty people circled me, chattering away. "Oh my god, you smell good.""Good smell, good smell.""(she really does smell good.)""do you mind if I put my nose right on you? Right on your arm?""More smelly smelly please.""If I could destroy every part of my brain except the part that smelled your smell, I would do it. I would do it in a second.""Let's go, Belle," Edwart whispered and grabbed my hand. We pushed through the ravenous vampires nad out the front door."So that went well!" I said outside in the U-HAUL. I sniffed my hair. I did smell good."No, no, that wasn't my house," Edwart said, starting the truck. "I don't even know those people! Sometimes I get addresses confused.”

“What happened to your face?' he asked. 'When I was little, my grandmother was making candles and she had a big vat of hot beeswax in the backyard,' she said. 'I walked into the vat.' Usually that ended the conversation. 'I don't remember it,' she added. 'How old were you?' he asked. She tilted her face slightly, watching him. 'Ten months.' 'You were walking at ten months?' he asked. 'Not very well, apparently,' she said dryly.”