“And now I'm back outside again sitting in the white plastic chair looking at the dew on the gas cap of my car. A fly wants to bit me on the ankle. The mosquitoes are all asleep. They're just not out at this hour. Only one biting fly. And a mourning dove, who blows through his thumbs to make that sound.”

“Still others, like Kavita, just sit and sit, sometimes for hours. They are the ones, she now understands, who are mourning. Like her, they mourn a loss so wide and sodeep and so all-encompassing that it threatens to wash them away with grief.”

“Sometimes I feel like a junkie. One minute something happens in my life and I'm flying. Next minute I take a nose-dive and just as I'm about to hit the ground with full force something else will have me flying again.”

“An itchy feeling began to work its way through my body, as though a thousand mosquitoes were circulating through my blood, biting me from the inside, making me want to scream, jump, squirm. I ran.”

“As much as I didn't want to, I had to read Jag's note. I pulled it out of my back pocket. His handwriting still made my breath catch, but when I opened it, I wanted to cry.The paper contained two words: Fly, babe.I shredded it into little pieces. Fly? The stupid boy wanted me to fly? I'd fly off the handle when I caught up to him. Then he'd see me fly.”

“In one blow, that dream died as they dragged me—him—away. A tear slid down my cheek. I wasn't the only one mourning the loss of a dream. "I'm sorry." 'You're not alone, I just wanted you to know that. And someday, when I have my powers back and am free, I'm going to do some serious damage to the people who've hurt you.”