Mrs. Jones leaned in close. She smelled of wool and peppermint. “There’s a man somewhere who wanted you to believe in something…

Lydia went over and handed him a paper napkin. Conner stared at the napkin as if it were something delivered directly from the moon.

You watch teenage girls and feel shivers up and down your arms — those poor creatures don’t know the first thing about time or agony or the price they’re going to have to pay for just about everything.

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