“I know you white girls are all touchy feely, but, could you not? I feel like I’m a felon on death row every time you touch me. It’s like, damn, can I get a last meal at least before getting hooked up to the electric machine?”

“You know I’m just joking, Phee. I told you before and I will say it as many times as I have to. I’m going to be the one that saves you … every time.”

“Umm…Jinx is it? I have no idea why you thought you needed protection from me before, but if you call me bitch ever again, you’ll be needing protection from me in the future because I will be shoving my foot up your skinny little ass. Comprende?”

“Um … that’s the second time you’ve snorted in the last ten minutes. I think that’s got to be some kind of dork record. You do that a lot?”

“What is that by your eye?” Cass asks, weaving her head around, trying to get a better look at this Jinx guy’s face. “Bwahahaha! Please tell me you didn’t draw a teardrop next to your eye? Oh, this is comic gold! Hold still, I have to get a picture of this for the guys!”

“Finally having one other person in this world who cares feels like being tossed a scrap of food when you haven’t eaten in weeks and then having hope that you may just survive the famine after all.”

“Wait a minute, who was in your room then?”…“That would be me,” Spencer replies smugly from the entryway. How does he always pop up at the most inopportune times? It’s like he has some radar in his brain that tells him the best time and place where douchebaggery may occur, and he follows it religiously.”