“I'm still writing about you and you haven't read a word.”

“I’m still writing about you and you haven’t read a word.”

“What?" I ask. I don't get anything about this day. Everything is just off."Are you sure?""Am I sure where I live? Yeah. Steeple Drive.""Your cabin is on this road?""Is it just me, or is everything I'm saying slightly freaking you out?”

“This is Teenage madness. Trapped in a room knowing there's more outside. Trapped listening to a teacher talk about Hemingway as if each sentence and word had mythical importance. Trapped knowing she is in the room with me.”

“You all cool?" "I'm cool," confirmed Becks."I haven't been 'cool' since arriving in this godforsaken hellhole you persist in claiming is a civilized nation. I am, however, ready to go violate a few more laws.”

“It's not what you take when you leave this world behind you, It's what you leave behind you when you go.”

“I'm sixteen with what I hope will be a long life ahead, but I'm willing to give it up, to give anything to let her live, to let her make it through the night.”