Antoine Quotes

“No one has tamed you, and you have tamed no one. You are like my fox when I first knew him. He was only a fox like a hundred thousand foxes. But I have made him my friend, and now he is unique in all the world"

- the little prince”
― Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, The Little Prince

“The food is ready,” Zil announced to loud cheers.
“But we have something more important to do, first, before we can eat.”
Groans.
“We have to carry out some justice.”
That earned a silent stare until Turk and Hank started raising their hands and yelling, showing the crowd how to act.
“This mutant, this nonhuman scum here, this freak Hunter…” Zil pointed, arm stretched out, at his captive. “This chud deliberately murdered my best friend, Harry.”
“Na troo,” Hunter said. His mouth still didn’t work right. Brain damage, Zil supposed, from the little knock on his head. Half of Hunter’s face drooped like it wasn’t quite attached right. It made it easier for the crowd of kids to sneer at him, and Hunter, yelling in his drooling retard voice, wasn’t helping his case.
“He’s a killer!” Zil cried suddenly, smacking his fist into his palm.
“A freak! A mutant!” he cried. “And we know what they’re like, right? They always have enough food. They run everything. They’re in charge and we’re all starving. Is that some kind of coincidence? No way.”
“Na troo,” Hunter moaned again.
“Take him!” Zil cried to Antoine and Hank. “Take him, the murdering mutant scum!”
They seized Hunter by the arms. He could walk, but only by dragging one leg. They half carried, half marched him across the plaza. They dragged him up the church steps.
“Now,” Zil said, “here is how we’re going to do this.” He waved his hand toward the rope that Lance was unspooling back through the plaza.
An expectant pause. A dangerous, giddy feeling. The smell of the meat had them all crazy. Zil could feel it.
“You all want some of this delicious venison?”
They roared their assent.
“Then you’ll all grab on to the rope.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger

“We’ve searched all of the homes and carried the food to Ralph’s,” Sam continued. “The problem is that all the fruit and veggies spoiled while we were all filling up on chips and cookies. The meat all rotted. People were stupid and careless, and there’s nothing we can do about that now.” Sam swallowed the bitterness he felt, the anger he felt at his own foolishness. “But we have food sitting out in the fields. Maybe not the food we’d like, but enough to carry us for months—many months—if we bring it in before it rots and the birds eat it.”
“Maybe we’ll get rescued, and we won’t have to worry,” another voice said.
“Maybe we’ll learn to live on air,” Astrid muttered under her breath but loudly enough to be heard by at least a few.
“Why don’t you go get our food back from Drake and the chuds up there?”
It was Zil. He accepted a congratulatory slap on the back from a creepy kid named Antoine, part of Zil’s little posse.
“Because it would mean getting some kids killed,” Sam said bluntly. “We’d be lucky to rescue any of the food, and we’d end up digging more graves in the plaza. And it wouldn’t solve our problem, anyway.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger

“Go, Breeze,” someone yelled.
But another voice yelled, “Quit showing off, stupid mutant.”
Brianna stopped dead. Her dress settled back into place. “Who said that?”
Zil. The same jerk who had picked on Jack over the phones.
“Me,” Zil said, stepping forward. “And don’t bother trying to look tough. I’m not scared of you, freak.”
“You should be,” Brianna hissed.
Suddenly there was Dekka, up off her chair, hand extended between Brianna and Zil. “No,” she said in her deep voice. “None of that.”
Quinn joined her. “Dekka’s right, we can’t be having fights and stuff here. Sam will shut this place down.”
“Maybe we should have two different clubs,” a seventh grader named Antoine said. “You know, one for freaks and one for normals.”
“Man, what is the matter with you?” Quinn demanded.
“I don’t like her acting like she’s so cool, is all,” Zil said, stepping beside Antoine.
“You should be on our side, Quinn. Everyone knows you’re a normal,” another kid, Lance, said. “Well…kind of normal. You’re still Quinn.”
― Michael Grant, Hunger