The weather had changed, all right. Gatlin had never seen a storm like this. And she probably didn't even know it was raining.

. . . I could't get lost in the story, not the way you need to be, to become somebody else.

It had been a long, dull day at Jackson without Hurrican Lena, and I was starting to wonder how I ever got through eight periods without all the trouble she caused me. Without all the trouble she made me want to cause myself.

Pete et Invienies.

Old paper, which my mom used to say was the smell of time itself.

All that destiny garbage. Nobody can decide what happens to you. Nobody but you.