“Hey Clara-Bell, how’s it going? Are you going to eat that?” Using his stupid pet name, he pointed at the vomit-like mass called peach cobbler.“No, you can have it. You like to eat more than me.” “What can I say? I’m a growing boy with a hollow leg.”

“Apricots are like cute furry pets you can eat—legally.”

“... Hey, I didn't know you didn't like baloney."I went cold. "I don't like it. I never liked it."Soda just looked at me. "You used to eat it. That's why you wouldn't eat anything while you were sick. You kept saying you didn't like baloney, no matter what it was we were trying to get you to eat.""I don't like it," I repeated.”

“They follow meaningless, boring rules and live meaningless, boring lives."Ahh," I say. "Except for you, of course."That's right."Because you eat butter straight from the pan."She arches her eyebrows, like Hey, I call it like I see it.Whatever," I say. "I'm not going to eat Snoopy just to make a statement.”

“His name is Christian,” he calls back. “Can you believe that? We came all this wayso Clara could save a guy named Christian.”“I’m aware of the irony.”

“Bet you never eat, he says. Bet you drink up the oxygen like it's butter. Bet you can go for days on nothing but thoughts.”