“I know what you’re thinking,” Ellis said, hitting the key remote in his hand. “It’s pretty much the most stunning example of vehicular perfectionever.”We all stood there, watching as the back door of the sky blue van slid open, revealing two rows of seats, the rear of which was stacked withsoccer balls and various pairs of cleats.“Don’t try to point out to him that it is just a minivan,” Heather said, climbing into the backseat and pushing a ball onto the floor. “We’ve tried.”

“The elevator doors opened on the first floor and Van Holtz was waiting there with several bags of groceries in his hands. “Oh. You,” he said. He started to walk in and, without thinking, simply reacting, Bo shoved him back out of the elevator by his head and hit the elevator button again. “You asshole!” Bo heard as the door closed.”

“Heathers!" I said triumphantly. "I think I've got that one here somewhere.""Hey. Ram, doesn't this cafeteria have a no-fags allowed policy?""What?""The answer is, 'They seem to have an open door policy on assholes, though, don't they?'"I just stood there, trying to figure out if he was calling me a fag or an asshole or both, and he rolled his eyes at me again."It's a line from Heathers, man.”

“Just—don’t—move,” Guy said with his hands spread out in front of him. He looked as if he were trying to catch a wild horse, and did not advance, dismount, or draw his sword.Just then the portcullis dropped.“There’s no escape,” Guy assured him.From a nearby door, a handful of guards trotted toward Hadrian with their swords drawn.“Stop!” Guy ordered, raising his hand abruptly. “Don’t go near him. Just fan out.”The men waiting in line looked from the soldiers to Hadrian and then backed away.“I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Blackwater,” Guy said in an almost friendly tone. “But we truly have you outnumbered this time.”

“Really it’s not deliberate. Sometimes I try really hard to be anything but gay. I watch the other guys—and I know what you’re thinking. You think I mean I check them out, and yeah, I can’t help but do that too. But what I’m sayin is that I watch the really normal guys, the ones who are into sports, who act all totally straight, and I try to copy them. I try to lower the timber of my voice, not sound so nasally when I talk. I try to gesture with my hands in a manly sorta way instead of all limp-wristed and girly. I try to remember not to sit with my legs crossed, and I try really hard to avoid throwing a ball like a girl.”

“I’ll get you back for this, bitch,” the male cupping his balls managed to grit out. She gave him a patronising smile. “I know this must be painful for your ego. Try not to think of it as being defeated. Just think of it as being beat up by a girl.”