pjs art

“Mom!" Becca stared at her. "You think—you think I'm dating Michael?"
Her mom stared back at her, obviously thrown. "You're not?"
This would be hilarious if her mom didn't look so serious.
"Oh my god," cried Becca. "Are you kidding? Michael is the last person I would ever—oh my god. I wouldn't go out with him if someone paid me. Ugh, that's just—"
"You know I can hear you, right?" called Michael.”
― Brigid Kemmerer, Storm

“Give me the gun." Michael put a hand out, his voice soft.
Tension rode on the sunlight as she listened to Hunter's breathing shake.
"It's okay," said Michael. "You don't want to do this."
Inch by inch, Hunter lowered the gun into Michael's palm, finally letting go.
Michael didn't move. "You alright?"
Hunter nodded.
"Good." Michael wrapped his hand around the hilt.
Then he lifted it, cocked the hammer, and put the barrel against Hunter's forehead. "Now where the f*** are my brothers?”
― Brigid Kemmerer, Storm

“Casper, she said someone has to hold your leash.”
The dog barked.
Then he dipped his head, picked up the end of the leash in his mouth, and trotted after his master.”
― Brigid Kemmerer, Storm

“If you want me to fix your homework, you need to leave me alone.” Then he spotted her. “You’re back.”
“Yeah.” She glanced between him and Gabriel. “You do his homework?”
“Just the math. It’s a miracle he can count to ten.”
“I can count to one.” Gabriel gave him the finger.”
― Brigid Kemmerer, Storm