Ferii

“Jack?"
"Mmmm?"
The band was playing a softer song, mellow and slow.
"Why did you ask me out when you did?" I tried to sound casual.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean,did something specific happen to make you ask me out?"
"Yes," he said.
"What was it?" Had I thrown myself at Jack Caputo? Had I done something to get in Lacey's way?
"You remember the first game of the season?"
"Yeah," I said. It was Jack's first game as starting quarterback, the youngest starter in school history. I remembered sitting in the second row, directly behind the team bench.
"After I threw for the first touchdown of the game?"
"Yes." I still couldn't figure out where he was going with this.Had I flashed him or something,and blocked it out of my memory? I was pretty sure I wasn't holding up any large signs declaring my love or anything.
"Our defense took the field, and I was on the bench.When I turned around to look at the fans..." He paused.
Oh,no. "What did I do?"
He smiled. "You looked at me.Not the game." He sighed,as if reliving the memory.
I felt my face scrunch up in confusion. "That's it?"
"That's it." He shrugged. "It was the first time I thought there might be a chance. I asked Jules about it."
I bit my lip. "Apparently she doesn't understand that trusty sidekicks aren't supposed to spill secrets."
In a flash,I was suspended in air, the back of my head inches from the ground, Jack's face a breath away from mine, his lips in a wicked grin.
I gasped,more from surprise at the sudden dip than from fear.
"There are no secrets between us,Becks." His smile remained,but his eyes were intense.”
― Brodi Ashton, Everneath

“I give a little wave back because it's more mature then giving him the finger.”
― Carrie Jones, Endure

“We teleported," Issie finishes. "Like in Star Trek or Harry Potter, sort of. No! Like in Dr. Who in that episode with the Sontarans and the brilliant human boy, or really any Dr. Who ever if you think of the Tardis! Holy canola! That is just the coolest thing ever! Wowie, wow, wow!”
― Carrie Jones, Endure

“I met Jose Angelico the way I meet many of my customers. I have a workshop on the cemetery road, just past the coffin makers. I specialize in the small, simple stone. I am very aware that my clients have next to nothing, and renting the grave has often taken most of their money. So I modify and modify and get down to the very lowest cost. The dead, however, must have that stone: the reminder, the eternal reminder, that this man, this woman, this child---existed. On some of the graves the name is marked in paint, or even pen, and everyone knows how sad that is. Make something out of stone, I say, and noone touches the grave.The poor are not buried, you see. There is not enough ground here any more, so in the Naravo they build upwards. The graves of the poor are concrete boxes, each just big enough for the coffin. They go up and up---in some parts twenty boxes high. A funeral here is to slide the coffin in and watch the sealing of the compartment. Part of my service is that I cement the stone that I've made into place, and thus seal the chamber.”
― Andy Mulligan, Trash