“Why should I tell you?" he asked, with no small amount of petulance."If you tell me, I will leave you alone," I said. "And if you don't tell me, I'm going to grab the nearest ghostwritten James Patterson romance novel and I am going to follow you through this store reading it out loud until you relent."Now I could see the fright beneath the defiance.”

“If you tell me, I will leave you alone," I said. "And if you don't tell me, I am going to grab the nearest ghostwritten James Patterson romance novel and I am going to follow you through this store reading it out loud until you relent. Would you prefer me to read from Daphne's Three Tender Months with Harold or Cindy and John's House of Everlasting Love? I guarantee, your sanity and your indie street cred won't last a chapter. And they are very, very short chapters." Now I could see the fright beneath the defiance.”

“Tal told me he loved me, and told me and told me, but you don't tell someone that and then tell them they're not experienced enough in bed and should read a book or something to learn, or they should try wearing deep-red lipstick and tight skirts to look hot like their best friend once in a while. If Tal hadn't lied to me when he said he loved me, I might not be without a future right now, a sucker who was so chickenshit she allowed herself to believe a false dream from a false god. I'm not sure I ever even liked Tal, much less loved him.”

“I’m looking for Fat Hoochie Prom Queen,” I declared.He did not respond.“It’s a book,” I said. “Not a person.”Nope. Nothing.“At the very least, can you tell me the author?”He looked at his computer, as if it had some way to speak to me without any typing on his part.“Are you wearing headphones that I can’t see?” I asked.He scratched at the inside of his elbow.“Do you know me?” I persisted. “Did I grind you to a pulp in kindergarten, and are you now getting sadistic pleasure from this petty revenge?Stephen Little, is that you? Is it? I was much younger then, and foolish to have nearly drowned you in that water fountain. In my defense, yourprior destruction of my book report was a completely unwarranted act of aggression.”Finally, a response. The information desk clerk shook his shaggy head.“No?” I said.“I am not allowed to disclose the location of Fat Hoochie Prom Queen,” he explained. “Not to you. Not to anyone. And while I am not StephenLittle, you should be ashamed of what you did to him. Ashamed.”

“The handwriting was a girl’s. I mean, you can tell. That enchanted cursive.”

“Dash is getting very frisky in here with me, Mark." What I wanted to say was I wish Dash was getting frisky in here with me. Dash raised an eyebrow at me again."No he's not," Mark said."How do you know?""Because if he was, you wouldn't be calling me to rescue you right now, Googly Eyes.”

“So what do you have to confess now?"I don't know why I'm saying any of this, except that it's the truth. "I'm confessing that I don't know if I'm ready for this.""What is 'this'?"Being open. Being hurt. Liking. Not being liked. Seeing the flicker on. Seeing the flicker off. Leaping. Falling. Crashing.”