Over my sixteen years, I'd lived three different lives.

Not everything that came through her broadcasts could be believed either.

Sirens began shrieking towards us, and the bitter smell of dust and smoke and blood irritated my senses.

I'm still dead. Alone on the field. The policeman closest to me is rubbing his head.

There's no order. Only swirls of noise, wailing, shouts, and commands. The court artist is sketching furiously.

Peter Pan. "This book good?" "The best." I flip to the first page. I read the first line:" All children , except one, grow up."

I'm at home with the wisps of boys filling the cemetery.

"Your mom is a real firecracker, by the way. I overheard her talking to my mom last night. She's very...colorful when she's mad."

She mapped out all the ways this could go wrong. It was like a Jenga tower that would topple with one wrong move.

"Old habits--old opinions--die hard. He probably thinks all black kids are hoodlums."

"It's just...I don't think there's such a thing as boy books or girl books. I think there are people books."

I drink in the smoky smell of the lamps burning. I even like the metal taste of the holy water on my tongue. The soft sounds of the prayers being chanted and sugn make me feel loved, like you're there, watching.

I ate my mango, but my tongue felt numb and I could barely taste it this time. The thickness of the fruit clung to my lips. It made me yearn for water even more.

He was such a sad and frightened man. The way his hands shook. Why had his family been killed? Why would anyone do that? Do people who kill start out like me, or are they a different kind of human?

After school he'll find her, hand a drawing to her, and run away. She always drops it on the ground, but I see her smile when he gives it to her. She always looks before she lets it go.

The best time to talk to ghosts is just before the sun comes up.

Her tears turned black as they rolled through the soot on her face.

I pulled up the hood of my cloak to hide my face as I approached the prison.

My heart wanted to force my feet to run, but I couldn't feel them, couldn't feel my hands, nor my arms, nor any part of myself.