You're A Psychopath." "i Prefer Creative.

Patch Smiled. “you Come By Your Red Hair Naturally?” I Stared At Him. “i Don’t Have Red Hair.” “i Hate To Break It To You, But It’s Red. I Could Light It On Fire And It Wouldn’t Turn Any Redder.

He Inclined His Head At My Dress. "what's The Occasion?" "homecoming," I Said, Twirling. "like?" "last I Heard, Homecoming Requires A Date." "about That," I Hedged. "i'm Sort Of...going With Scott. We Both Figure A High-school Dance Is The Last Place Hank Will Be Patrolling." Patch Smiled, But It Was Tight. "i Take That Back. If Hank Wants To Shoot Scott, He Has My Blessing.

You Should Go," I Breathed. "you Should Definitely Go." "go Here?" His Mouth Was On My Shoulder. "or Here?" It Moved Up My Neck.

Tacos." "tacos?" I Echoed. This Seemed To Amuse Him. "tomatoes, Lettuce, Cheese." "i Know What A Taco Is!

Did You Hear Something, Nora?” Vee Asked. “i Thought I Heard Something.” “you Definitely Heard Something,” I Agreed. “could That Be … A Dog Fart I Heard?” Vee Asked Me.