M.G. Buehrlen > Quotes

“I thought I’d lost him – lost my chance.

But he didn’t push me away.

Instead, he slipped both his arms around me, slid his hands up my back beneath my coat, and gathered me gingerly against his chest. He rested his forehead against mine under the brim of his hat. Our breath mingled in the thin space between us.

“You had brown eyes,” he said.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“During homeroom, before first period, I start a bucket list in one of my notebooks.
First on the list?

1) Eat in the cafeteria. Sit with people. TALK TO THEM.

2)

And…that’s all I can come up with for now. But this is good. One task to work on.
No distractions. I can do this.

When my lunch period rolls around, I forgo the safety of my bag lunch and the computer
lab and slip into the pizza line, wielding my very own tray of semi-edible fare for
the first time in years.

“A truly remarkable sight.” Jensen cuts into line beside me, sliding his tray next
to mine on the ledge in front of us. He lifts his hands and frames me with his fingers,
like he’s shooting a movie. “In search of food, the elusive creature emerges from
her den and tries her luck at the watering hole."

I shake my head, smiling, moving down the line. “Wow, Peters. I never knew you were
such a huge Animal Planet fan.”

“I’m a fan of all things nature. Birds. Bees. The like.” He grabs two pudding cups
and drops one on my tray.

“Pandas?” I say.

“How did you know? The panda is my spirit animal.”

“Oh, good, because Gran has this great pattern for an embroidered panda cardigan.
It would look amazing on you.”

“Um, yeah, I know. It was on my Christmas list, but Santa totally stiffed me."


I laugh as I grab a carton of milk. So does he.

He leans in closer. “Come sit with me.”

“At the jock table? Are you kidding?” I hand the cashier my lunch card.

Jensen squints his eyes in the direction of his friends. “We’re skinny-ass basketball
players, Wayfare. We don’t really scream jock.”

“Meatheads, then?”

“I believe the correct term is Athletic Types.” We step out from the line and scan
the room. “So where were you planning on sitting?"



“I was thinking Grady and Marco were my safest bet.”

“The nerd table?”

I gesture to myself, especially my glasses. “I figure my natural camouflage will help
me blend, yo.”

He laughs, his honey-blond hair falling in front of his eyes.

“And hey,” I say, nudging him with my elbow, “last I heard, Peters was cool with nerdy.”

He claps me gently on the back. “Good luck, Wayfare. I’m pulling for ya.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Because life must go on. We have to keep up appearances. We can't risk doing anything suspicious. All the greatest superheroes had other identities. They had real, everyday lives to keep them grounded and their sects safe. They had people to lice and fight for in the real world. Superman had Lois Lane. Spider-Man had--"

"Mary Jane."

"I was going to say Gwen.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Thank God, my host body finally came through and took over. I didn’t know how long I could get by with Porter’s don’t talk to the locals advice, especially since I was part of the gang.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“He has tattoos. All over. Each one symbolizing his time with you. Did you know that?"

I shake my head and look everywhere, anywhere but at Micki. I don't want to think about Levi's tattoos, what they represent, or where they might be located. I'd rather think about the wattage of the overhead fluorescent lights or the speed of the processors powering the CPUs.

"You do know you used to sleep together, though, right? That you lived together at AIDA? That fine specimen of a man was your personal boy toy. You had him wrapped around your finger and dipped in chocolate. He did anything you asked. And I mean anything."

"Um," I say, squirming in my chair. " Too much info."

I'm so not in the mood to hear about my past self's sex life. Plus, it feels disrespectful to Levi. Not to mention that it makes me feel really freaking weird. And really freaking nauseous.

"Aw, did I burn your New Life virgin ears?" Micki pouts, a sarcastic puppy frown.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“So, can you tell all the jerks at school that I have a boyfriend? And that you and I are just friends? Maybe that’ll get the guys off my back and the girls won’t hate me so much.”

“What? They don’t hate you.”

“Yes they do.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“Um, maybe because you and I are friends now?” I swear, he can be so oblivious sometimes.

“We’ve always been friends.”

“OK, well, they hate me now that you’ve made our friendship public.”

“That’s a ridiculous reason to hate someone.”

“Jensen, if you haven’t figured out by now that most girls are shallow, shallow creatures, then there’s no hope for you. They hate other girls for far less than that. Trust me.”

“That’s messed up.”

“Tell me about it.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“You want me to help fix her up?”

“Oh, I want much more than that. I want a commitment, baby.” He drops to one knee,
right in the snow, soaking his jeans straight through. He looks up at me, holding
the keys out in his palms. “Alex Wayfare, I want to make sweet engine music with you.
Will you be my mechanic?”

Two of my neighbors walk by with their dog, staring and grinning, and I yank Jensen
to his feet. “Get up before someone thinks you’re proposing, you goof.”

“Is that a yes?”

I take the keys in one hand and slap his arm with the other. “Yes,” I say with a laugh.
“Now stop making a scene.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“It's a scary thought, random people accessing Limbo. If only Gesh had written a poem about his discovery and left it well enough alone, like Dante. But then again, I wouldn't have been created.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Helena let me borrow a silk scarf to go with the green trench and white gloves. When she secured a navy blue cloche hat over my hair, I almost didn’t recognize myself. I felt very much the part, standing next to Blue in his white collar shirt, green sweater vest and tie, caramel-colored suit, and brown flat cap tilted to the side. Helena whistled and said he was the eel’s hips, whatever that meant. When I told him he looked smokin’ hot, he just shook his head and said, “Nah, I’m not hot at all. This suit breathes really well.”

I won’t lie. In that moment, my heart melted a little for Nicholas Piasecki.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“This is how it is. You and me, we die. It’s what we do.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“Open mouth, insert foot. It's becoming such a regular occurrence for me it should be considered exercise. "I'm sorry. I've never actually had a gay friend before. I'm probably going to say a lot of stupid things."

"'Wait, we're friends now?" "She acts shocked. "I thought you didn't have any of those, let alone gay ones."

"I don't have many."

"I wonder why."

Touché.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Wow, Tab, is the Resting Bitch Face, or are you just happy to see me?”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Little things at first. Sunlight. Melodies. Smells. They'll awaken something inside you. An image will flash. Then you'll remember deeper things. Like how you felt when he touched you. Kissed you."

I grip the armrests of the chair, trying to stay cool. "Would you stop?"

"I thought you'd want to be prepared. Those memories, they're going to feel real. And you may start having urges--"

"Oh god, please don't use that word. Why are adults always using that word?"

"What word? Urges?"

"Gah." I plus my ears.

She shrugs. "I'm just saying."

"Stop saying. And stop planting stuff in my head."

"She raises a sharp eyebrow. "I'm planting stuff in you head now? How very sci-fi of me.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Do you think the stars stare back at us? I asked...

"Oh, I think they watch us with rapt attention," Blue said. "Especially during the day, when we ignore them, when our eyes can't see past the blue. It's quite the partnership, you know. We put on a show for each other. We're both spectacles."

As he spoke, I stretched out on my back, hands clasped behind my head, admiring his profile. The slope of his nose. The curve of his lips. The set of his jaw. Then I turned my gaze to the endless stars above us, and the constellations I knew by name. They were all there, shining the same as they do over two hundred years in the future. They traveled with me, my companions on this journey. Orion was driving, Cassiopeia was riding shotgun, and I was in the backseat singing 'Stardust' and 'Orion is Arising' and 'Catch a Falling Star.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Oh. My. God. Was I flirting with Judd Carter?”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“to make you mad.” “Of course you didn’t,” he said with a scowl. “All you meant to do was descend into my girlfriend’s body, demand I risk my neck to take you into a high security area–”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Fifty-Seven Lives of Alex Wayfare

“Turning fiction into mechanical puzzle pieces – like something you could manufacture in an assembly line – was the only way I could pass his literature assignments. Plug protagonist into slot A. Attach conflict and dramatic irony, using two minor characters and one antagonist. Rotate ninety degrees and locate symbolism. Slide climax into place, and fasten with resolution. Use the provided bonding compound if structure seems unstable.

No problem.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“I'm a time traveler. I travel to far-off lands, places, and times you can only dream of. With a snap of a finger, a gasp, a blink, I am there. I've skinny-dipped in the sixties, robbed a steam train in the 1800s, run from gangsters during Prohibition, climbed to mountains outside Beijing. I don't know how many reincarnations I have left. I don't know my first parents, my first family. All I know is that I'm an orphan of the stars, born to countless families with countless sisters and brothers and lovers and friends. Countless enemies, I suppose, as well. I've toured Dante's castle in Limbo. I can speak Chinese and Danish. I've stolen treasures worth millions, turned them over in my hands. I've been shot twice. I broke a boy's nose at school. I know kung fu. I'm dying. I don't know how to trust. I'm angry, and I'm bitter, and you are the only bright spot in all of it.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Hello, Alex."

I turned around, and there he was, wearing a young man's body, maybe a few years older than myself. He was tall and broad with deep, dark skin, a flashing smile, and... wait for it... an afro. Porter in a black turtleneck and honey-brown leather jacket. Porter in corduroy bellbottoms and glossy snakeskin boots.

Oh, I was in heaven. Looking him up and down, I let out a whistle. "Damn."

"What?"

"You're fine, Porter, my man."

"I'm... fine?"

"This body you're in. It's attractive. If only I knew this guy way back when, know what I'm sayin?"

"Alex," he says in his most dignified, authoritative voice. "These bodies deserve respect. We're borrowing them without their consent and making them do things they wouldn't otherwise. We've discussed this."

"Are you saying you don't want me to stare at your butt?"

"Please so not stare at my butt.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“His eyes widen. “Wow. You really are a fix-it whiz.”

“Fix-it Freak, you mean?” I toss the books in the back seat and buckle my lap belt.

“Fix-it Freaking Awesome, maybe.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“Levi didn’t trust my idea, but it was a heck of a lot better than his “just run as fast as you can from a swarm of security guards” plan. I had to seal the deal. Cut Gesh off at the knees. Not at the freaking elbow.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“See that?" Audrey says, pointing her floppy pizza slice at the screen. "She doesn't look any different without her glasses and yet he acts life it's this huge transformation. She was already sexy. She didn't need to take them off."

"Well," I say, stretching my legs out and sinking into Audrey's pillows beside her, "it wasn't sexy to be smart, independent, and own your own bookshop back then. You had to take your glasses off and let your hair down to get noticed by a dreamboat like Bogart."

Audrey makes an ugly sound in her throat.

"I like to think guys have evolved since then," Jensen says, chewing.

"I admire your faith in the make species," I say.

"Hey, I love it when you talk nerdy to me," he says, lifting a brow. "So, clearly, there's been some evolving going on."

"Audrey grabs another slice and takes a huge bite. "You're just one of the rare good ones, Jensen. An anomaly.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“There's all this awkward silence between us, and I hate it, and I hate myself, and I'm frowning so hard at the dishes I could probably scare the dirt and grime straight down the drain.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“I can see perfectly and clearly.

And my glasses are still on the nightstand.

I bolt upright and look around my room. Everything – every poster, every tool, every spare part, every spool of wire – I can see it all crisp and clear. I saw every strand of Mom’s hair in perfect precision. Her tired eyes. The steam rising from her mug. It should’ve all been a blurred mess of colored blobs. I should’ve had to drag my glasses on before any of my surroundings made sense.

I grab my glasses and slide them on. Everything shifts out of focus. I take them off and my world sharpens. I scowl down at my frames like they’ve betrayed me somehow. Then I fumble for my cell phone and dial Porter’s number.

“Alex?”

“You have to do something,” I say, panicked. “I woke up and now I’m Peter freaking Parker.”

“Peter who?”

“I can see. Like 20/20. I don’t need my glasses anymore.”

“Oh. Well, that must be a residual from Shooter Delaney. She was a sharp shooter, you know.”

“Is that all you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I want you to tell me how to reverse it.”

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone. “You want… your bad vision back?”

“Yes.”

“…Why?”

“Because my other option is explaining to my parents how I have perfect vision all of a sudden. I’m pretty sure they won’t buy the whole ‘bitten by a radioactive spider’ thing.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out as my heart leaps into my throat, but it's only Claire asking when I'll be done with my "makeout sesh." I stare at the scree, trying to think of a biting reply, but dammit, nothing comes to mind. Not with Jensen standing there watching me.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“When I arrive home, the house is brimming with the scent of Gran’s molasses cookies. One of her specialties. The moment I walk through the door, she tosses me an oven mitt.

“Can you watch these for me, Allie Bean? I ran out of butter. There’s a few minutes left on the timer, so when it goes off, check if they’re done. If not, set it for another five minutes. Don’t you let my sugar babies burn.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“You're right. I should make more of an effort to get along with people. Even you."

"God, Alex, that's so sweet of you." She turns back to the computers. "Now I totally feel life renting movies and eating ice cream in our jammies.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“So?” I say, kneeling down on the floor and sticking Charade in the DVD player.

“So you don’t have any friends. You don’t know what it’s like.”

Mom unfolds one of Gran’s afghans and drapes it over the back of the couch. “That’s not true. Alex has friends.”

Claire fists her hands on her hips. “Name one.”

Mom’s face goes a little blank as she thinks about it. Then she says, “Paisley,” and smiles at me. “She sits next to you in Sunday School.”

I turn my head to the side so she can’t see me grimace. Paisley isn’t exactly my friend. She does sit next to me in Sunday School, but we never speak. She’s weird, even for my standards. For one, she always wears flannel pajamas and hiking boots. To church and to school. And two? She always has a handful of mayonnaise packets in her backpack.

Which she snacks on.

During class.

I shudder just thinking about the sound she makes sucking on those packets.

“And what about Jensen?” Mom says. “He’s been your friend since you two were in the church nursery together.”

I roll my eyes. “Mom, just because Paisley and Jensen are in my general vicinity at church and school doesn’t mean they’re my friends.”

“See?” Claire says.“Jensen isn’t her friend. She just has that huge crush on him still.”

I don’t even attempt to dispute it like I normally would. Claire’s like a pit bull when it comes to arguing. Once she sinks her teeth in, she doesn’t let go. And I don’t have the energy to spar with her tonight. Besides, it’s not like my crush on Jensen was ever a secret in this family. Even Pops knows about it. He used to pinch me right above my knee where it tickles, and if I laughed, it meant I was “boy crazy.” Boy crazy for Jensen Peters.

I laughed every time, dammit.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare

“I'm a ghost." He speaks the words to the dark sky. To the stardust. "That's all I am. A ghost, wandering through time, haunting you.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The Untimely Deaths of Alex Wayfare

“Ma patched you up the best she could and got you dressed and in bed. I told her not to bother curling your hair, but she did it anyway. Made it easier for her to look at that knot at the back of your head.” He reached up and flipped one of my striped cotton curlers with his fingers. “Looks cute, though. Very John Philip Sousa.”

At first I thought he meant I looked like the heavily bearded composer on the cover of one of Pops’ old records, the guy who wrote all those patriotic marches the marching bands play during parades, but I shot him a playful glare when I got the reference. The red, white, and blue rag curlers. “Oh yes, I know, very Stars and Stripes Forever.”
― M.G. Buehrlen, The 57 Lives of Alex Wayfare