Ruthie

“Dear Mr. Weston,
Hello again. We were beginning to wonder what had happened to you. I guess things have been pretty quiet since the Salvation Army tried to take over the world.
We are sorry, but after much deliberation we have elected not to assign any men to Protect Trillium Air Base. We feel that the Forces can protect themselves, and if they can't, who is going to protect the country?
Also, thank you for sending us that shard of broken glass with the fingerprint on it. It was yours. Our mail clerk required four stitches and a tetanus shot.
Relay our condolences to your Mr. Waghorn. We have no idea what unfortunate circumstance (for him) drew him to your ever-watchful attention, but he has no criminal record and his face is not known to us. Yours Sincerely,
Bruce Hmmm, thought Sidney, Waghorn has no criminal record.
"Let me see one of those," said Tom.
"I'm sorry, Tom, but I can't show you the letters."
Tom muttered something about a lack of trust. He was extremely alarmed at the intensity of Sidney's expression. As Sidney himself would have put it, the investigation was progressing. That meant trouble. There was always trouble when his brother got to the letter-writing stage. Tom would have to stay on his toes.
Sidney opened the last letter. Dear Mr. Weston,
Please stop bothering us. Cordially yours,
The Ontario Provincial Police.”
― Gordon Korman, Our Man Weston

“Hamilton had a complaint. "Why did you have to tell the cops I'm your boyfriend? That's gross, Amy. We're related!"
Amy was disgusted. "We had a common ancestor, like, five hundred years ago. Besides, if they think we're together, we only have to come up with one story, and I can do all the talking."
"Hey, I got an early acceptance to Notre Dame," Hamilton said defensively. "I can talk."
"Of course you can," Amy soothed. "It's what you say that might get us into trouble.”
― Gordon Korman, The Medusa Plot

“It was no place for a Kabra, not even a poor one living in exile with a psychopathic cat.
He approached the counter and rand the bell with authority. The clerk turned around.
Evan Tolliver.
"You're Amy's cousin!"
"Yes, I am," Ian confirmed. "I have here a list of items–"
"Have you heard from her?" Evan interrupted. "Is she okay?"
"Her health is excellent."
"No, I mean–"
Ian sighed. "Why should you care? She promises to phone you, and she doesn't. You were nearly arrested, thanks to her. There's a message in there somewhere, don't you agree?"
Evan nodded sadly. "I kind of think so, too. But we were awesome together. She's smart, fun to be with, and not immature like most of the girls in our school. It's as if she has an automatic switch for when it's time to be serious–she can almost be old beyond her years at times. Where do you learn something like that?"
"I have no earthly idea," Ian lied.”
― Gordon Korman, The Medusa Plot

“Ow!"
"Hold still," Sinead ordered. "And don't be such a baby." She dabbed at the angry red mark behind Ian's ear. "Cat scratches are prone to infection, you know."
"And that's my fault?" Ian raged. "Why don't you lock that animal in the cellar? Or, better still, send him to a violen string factory! Ow! What is this stuff–acid?"
"My own concoction," she replied cheerfully. "Amy and I use it on our blisters when we do marathon training. Soothing, right?"
"They practice this kind of soothing in the Lucian stronghold–during interrogations.”
― Gordon Korman, The Medusa Plot