“Look!” piped Korbal Broach.Bauchelain paused. “I see.”Tucking the mangled head under an arm, Korbal Broach walked to the steps, and up he went.”

“One shouldn't allow oneself to be intimidated by something that can be picked up and tucked under one's arm.”

“With my sister perched on my arm, I walked to the elevator. A business man with a rolling suitcase was waiting by the doors. His eyes widened as he saw me. I must’ve looked pretty strange—a tall black kid in dirty, ragged Egyptian clothes, with a weird box tucked under one arm and a bird of prey perched on the other.“How’s it going?” I said.“I’ll take the stairs.” He hurried off.”

“What is that?" Dad said, looking at the doll."It’s called the Scream," I said."I know that, but what us it?” Dad said.“Maybe she sleeps with it,” I said to Dad as he tucked it under his arm.“Then no wonder it’s screaming,” he said.”

“He does this on purpose," Stephanie's mother said as they sat in the car, seat belts on and ready to go. They watched him appear at the front door, shrug into his jacket, tuck in his shirt, go to step out, and then pause."He looks like he's about to sneeze," Stephanie remarked.”

“I buried my head under the darkness of the pillow and pretended it was night. I couldn't see the point of getting up. I had nothing to look forward to.”