Thanks. Seriously, you must have better things to do with your life than waste it on the hopeless?'
'I've already learned Parseltongue. What else is there?'
'Elvish.

I planted a kamikaze kiss on Jamie’s cheek.
“FUCK,” he shouted, wiping it off. “What if you killed me!” He threw a Skittle at my face. It hit my forehead.
“Ow!”
“Taste the rainbow bitch.

You don’t get what you do for him. You’re like his manic pixie dream girl or something.” Jamie thought for a second. “Actually, more like his psychotic demon nightmare thing, but whatever. You get my point.

Names?' the receptionist asked us.
“Jesus,” Jamie answered.
“Mary,” said Stella.
“Satan,” I said as I walked past her and pushed open the door to Ira Ginsberg’s office.

I kind of want to see Mara Crucio their asses.

Ladies and gentlemen, Jamal Feldstein-Roth.”
I blinked. “Wait, Jamal?”
“Suck it,” he said with a grin. “My parents are liberal Jews from Long Island, okay? They wanted me to have a connection to my heritage.” Jamie made air quotes with his fingers.
“I’m not judging—my middle name is Amitra. I’m just surprised.”
“Amitra,” Noah amused. “Mystery solved.”
“What is that?” Jamie asked me.
“Sanskrit? Hindi?” I shrugged.
“Randomly?”
I shook my head. “My mom’s Indian.”
“What does that mean?” Jamie asked me.
“What does Jamal mean?” I asked him.
“Point taken.