“I don't want to go to the government," the Schwa says. "Yeah," I said. "They'd dissect him and put him in a formaldehyde fish tank in Area 51." Howie shook his head. "Area 51 is for aliens," he says. "They'd probably put him in Area 52.”

“Should I push him or should I throw him?" Howie asks."Do what comes naturally," I yelled back."I don't know," he says. "This is a very unnatural thing.”

“I wanted to take everything I was feeling, put it in a cannon and aim it at him.”

“[...] every time he forces himself to think before acting, it's her voice in his head telling him to slow down. He wants to tell her, but she's always so busy in the medical jet—and you don't just go to somebody and say, "I'm a better person because you're in my head.”

“What if . . . what if . . ."What if it's a harvest camp after all?" says Emby. Connor doesn't tell him to shut up this time, because he's thinking the same thing.It's Diego who answers him. "If it is, then I want my fin gers to go to a sculptor. So he can use them to craft something that will last forever."They all think about that. Hayden is the next to speak."If I'm unwound," says Hayden, "I want my eyes to go to a photographer — one who shoots supermodels. That's what I want these eyes to see.""My lips'll go to a rock star," says Connor."These legs are definitely going to the Olympics.""My ears to an orchestra conductor.""My stomach to a food critic.""My biceps to a body builder.""I wouldn't wish my sinuses on anybody."And they're all laughing as the plane touches down.”

“I love you, Brew." "No you don't," he said. "Just shut up and take it," I told him. He smiled. "Okay.”

“The Admiral's using us," he says to the kids around him. "Don't you see that?"Most of the kids just shrug, but Hayden's there, and he never misses an opportunity to add his peculiar wisdom to a situation. "I'd rather be used whole than in pieces," Hayden says.”