“She’s just a little faint,” I reassured Mrs. Hammond. “They’re blood typing in biology.”She nodded, understanding now. “There’s always one.”I stifled a laugh. Trust Bella to be that one.”

“What about Josh?” I think there’s more to that question than she’s letting on but she’s testing the waters. Salvation, I write. She looks at the word and nods. And for a minute she looks as sad as I feel. “That fits, I think.”

“She’s my mate. She’s mine. No one keeps her from me. No one insults her. And no one – and I mean no one – talks to her the way you just did, understand me?”

“She searches me with those odd, blue-green eyes and I feel guilty so suddenly, without understanding why. But there’s something about the way she looks at me that always makes me feel insignificant, as if she’s the only one who’s realized I’m entirely hollow inside. She’s found the cracks in this cast I’m forced to wear every day, and it petrifies me. That this girl would know exactly how to shatter me.”

“Maybe" she said. "I just wish we'd have a little mishap.It would be reassuring ”

“I sat in the dark and thought: There’s no big apocalypse. Just an endless procession of little ones.”