Collection of Characters

Derek slides across the floor with the type of drama that would make the cast of Hamilton sit up and take note.

You Should See Me in a Crown, Leah Johnson

Prom in Campbell County, Indiana, is like football in Texas. The only difference is, we don’t get our fanaticism out of our systems every Friday night for months on end. Nope, in Cambell we just hold it in, eleven months and twenty-nine days per year, until one day we explode. The whole town, covered in a heap of sequins and designer tuxes and enough hairspray to fuel the Hindenburg.

You Should See Me in a Crown, Leah Johnson

I don’t resent my classmates—I really don’t. But sometimes (okay, most of the time) it’s just that I don’t feel like one of them.

You Should See Me in a Crown, Leah Johnson

Music is something I understand—the notes are a thing that I can always bend to my will.

You Should See Me in a Crown, Leah Johnson

Some of the rules Madame Simoné goes into next makes sense, are obvious even, but some are completely antiquated… But the hardest ones to hear are the ones she says with the most authority: Girls will run for queen, and boys will run for king—there’s definitely no accounting for people who might not identify as either. And the hardest for me to ignore, same-sex couples aren’t allowed to attend together… And just in case they hadn’t made their prejudice clear enough, if your gender identity doesn’t explicitly align with the one you were assigned at birth, you can’t come dressed the way you might want.

You Should See Me in a Crown, Leah Johnson

“You didn’t have to do that, you know—respond to Rachel,” I whisper to the girl without taking my eyes off the stage. “She’s been like this since we were in elementary school.”

“Of course I did.” I can feel her looking at me, but I can’t bring myself to make eye contact.

“I have rules.”

“What kind of rules?”

“Well for one”—she smiles at me with a flash of something that looks like trouble in her eyes—“I never let terrible people get away with doing terrible things. And two, if something is wrong, I say something about it. Always.”

“Aren’t those pretty much the same thing?” I’m smiling too, because there’s just something about how sure she is, how secure in those ideals, that makes me happy.

“Maybe. But terrible people aren’t always the ones doing something wrong. Good people mess up too, but that doesn’t mean we should let it slide.”

You Should See Me in a Crown, Leah Johnson

I’ve learned all the ways to keep my head down, to hide, to make myself scarce. But I never really learned how to say when enough is enough. Until now.

You Should See Me in a Crown, Leah Johnson

I love my home. But it might be a sinkhole

Trying to feast quicksand

mouth pried open; I hunger for stable ground,

somewhere else.

But I learned you, you do not speak

of the dying as if they are already dead.
You do not call bad spirits into their room,
& you do not smudge a person’s dignity

by pretending they are not
still alive, & right in front of you

Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo

The Day
I am beginning to learn
That life-altering news
Is often like a premature birth:

Ill-timed, catching someone unaware,
emotionally unprepared
& often where they shouldn’t be:
Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo
(Tía has a theory,
that when bad news is coming
the Saints will try to warn you:

will raise the hair on the back of your neck,
will slip icicles down your spine,
will tell you brace brace
brace yourself, muchacha.

Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo

How could I have known then

falling.

Swimming might be the closest to flying
a human being can get. There is something
about your body displacing water

in order to propel through space that makes you feel
Godtouched. That makes me understand evolution,
that we really must have crawled up from the sea.

Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo

You would think
coffee & condensed milk
would give you some kind
of light brown.

But I came out Papi’s mirror,
his bella negra.

Papi’s

I’ve always preferred playing black
on the chessboard.

Always advancing,
conquering my offending

other side.

Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo

I’m the child her father left her for in the summers.
While she is the chilid my father left me for my entire life.
I do not want to hate a girl with a glowing name.

Yahaira is a great name.

It means to light, or to shine. & I wonder
if she was a bulb in my father’s heart. I wonder
if she was so bright he kept returning for her

when he could have stayed here with me.

Clap When You Land, Elizabeth Acevedo

But after a year of tiptoeing through our lives, trying not to set off memories like land mines, my parents decide to quit, but call it change. Call it a fresh start. Call it just what this family needs.

I call it running.

The dead are silent, and objects, when they hold impressions, are quiet until you reach through them. But the touch of the living is loud. Living people haven’t been compiled, organized—which means they’re a jumble of memory and thought and emotion, all tangled up and held at bay only by the sliver band on my finger.

The Archived, Victoria Schwab

“Why can’t I wake up?” she whispers.

“Some dreams,” I say, “are harder to shake.”

“But do you know what’s great about dreams?” I mimic the tone my mother used to use with me, with Ben. Soothing, patient. “Once you know you’re in a dream, you can control it. You can change it. You can find a way out.”

The first trick to lying is to tell the truth as often as possible. If you start lying about everything, big and small, it becomes impossible to keep things straight, and you’ll get caught. Once suspicion is planted it becomes exponentially harder to sell the next lie.

The Archived, Victoria Schwab

The Archive is everything you told me it would be: A patchwork… wood and stone and colored glass, and all throughout, a sense of peace. But you left something out. It is beautiful.

The Archived, Victoria Schwab

“What have we here?” he asks. “Required reading,” I say, starting to scrub the counter. “It’s a shame they do that,” he says, thumbing through the pages. “Requirement ruins even the best of books.”

The Archived, Victoria Schwab

His forehead comes to rest against my shoulder. “You sound like thunderstorms and heavy rain, did you know that?” He lets out a soft, low laugh. “I never liked bad weather. Not until I met you.”

His voice has its usual easy charm, but now it’s also threaded through with longing.

“Do you regret it?” I ask. “Voting me through?”

Roland folds his arms across his chest. “Not at all,” he says with a smile. “You make things infinitely more interesting.”

People are made up of so many small details. Some—like the smell of cookies baking—we can recreate. Or at least try.

The Unbound, Victoria Schwab

“Love is simple, Miss Bishop. Crew isn’t.”

“How so?” I press.

“Love breaks,” he says. “The bond between Crew doesn’t. It has love in it, though, and transparency. Being Crew with someone means being exposed, letting them read you—your hopes and wants and thoughts and fears. It means trusting them so much that you’re not only willing to put your life in their hands, but to take their life into yours. It’s a heavy burden to bear,” he says, handing the picture back, “but Crew is worth it.”

“There’s a saying in the Archive: ‘Strange things shine brighter.’ You notice it when you read the memories in objects. But the same thing happens to the memories up here.” He taps his temple. “We stand out in the minds of others more than in our own. Whoever they were, you must have made an impression. Left a mark.”

The Unbound, Victoria Schwab

The song ends, but Wesley doesn’t let go, and I look up into his dark-rimmed eyes.

“What is it?” he asks.

“You’re worth it,” I tell him.

“WHAT HAPPENED TO BODY HEAT BEING THE MOST EFFECTIVE WAY OF PREVENTING FROSTBITE? IF YOU TAKE THAT COAT OFF, YOU’LL FREEZE BEFORE YOU CAN VALIANTLY ASSIST ME.”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK I WAS DOING?”

“REMOVING YOUR OVERCOAT TO PLACE ABOUT MY FEET.”

HE SHOOK HIS HEAD, HIS EXPRESSION LACED WITH MISCHIEF. “I WAS PLANNING ON STRIPPING BARE AND HAVING YOU DO THE SAME. THAT IS THE BEST WAY TO SHARE BODY HEAT.”

I GLANCED AT HIM, UNASHAMED. HIS EYES WERE DARK WITH WORRY. HE HAD CAUSE TO BE AFRAID; I HARDLY RECOGNIZED MYSELF. I SHOULDN’T DELIGHT IN SUCH VIOLENCE, YET THERE WAS NO DENYING HOW EXTRAORDINARILY ALIVE I FELT WHILE STUDYING DEATH.

Capturing the Devil, Kerri Maniscalco

WITHOUT PREAMBLE, I DROPPED ONTO THE MATRESS, HEAD SPINNING. THOUGH PERHAPS IT WASN’T MY MIND THAT WAS UNDER ATTACK—MY HEART WAS CLOSE TO BREAKING. AGAIN. HOW MANY TIMES WOULD THIS CASE HAUNT ME? HOW MANY SECRETS DID MY BROTHER KEEP? JUST WHEN I THOUGHT I’D SOLVED ONE MYSTERY, ANOTHER TOOK ITS PLACE, MORE BRUTAL AND VICIOUS THAN THE LAST.

Capturing the Devil, Kerri Maniscalco

NEITHER ONE OF US MENTIONED A MORE GLARING REASON WHY THEY HADN’T CALLED IN AN EXPERT: OUR SOCIETY WAS UNKIND TO WOMEN. ESPECIALLY THOSE WHO WERE FORCED TO SURVIVE ANY WAY THEY COULD. SURE, THE PAPERS WOULD CLAIM THEY’D EXHAUSTED ALL POSSIBLE INQUIRIES, BUT IT WAS ANOTHER FILTHY LIKE TOLD TO ENHANCE THEIR TALE. TO SELL THEIR PAPERS. TO MAKE THEM SLEEP BETTER AT NIGHT.

Capturing the Devil, Kerri Maniscalco

I INHALED DEEPLY, CHANNELING MY RETURNING RAGE INTO SOMETHING USABLE. ANGER WOULDN’T RESOLVE PROBLEMS, BUT ACTION WOULD.

Capturing the Devil, Kerri Maniscalco

“SHE’S A PAERSON WHO DESERVES TO HAVE HER STORY TOLD. WHAT DOES IT MATTER WHERE SHE WAS BORN? SHE’S A HUMAN, SAME AS THE REST OF US. DOESN’T THAT GRANT HER A PROPER INVESTIGATION?”

“WOULD THE WORLD LIVED BY THAT NOTION, WE MIGHT ALL FIND PEACE.”

FINALLY, I TOOK A DEEP BREATH. “WHEN YOU PROMISED A LIFETIME FULL OF SURPRISES, THIS WASN’T EXACTLY WHAT I HAD IN MIND.”

Capturing the Devil, Kerri Maniscalco

LADY VICTORIA ASTON RESTED HER ACHING HAND ON THE ROUGH STONE. SHE WIPED HER MUDDY PALMS DOWN THE FRONT OF HER THIGHS, SMEARING MUCK ONTO HER FATHER’S OLD TAN BREECHES. WHEN ATTEMPTING TO SAVE THE LIVES OF A PARTICULARLY BOTHERSOME FLOCK OF SHEEP, ONE HAD TO MAKE SACRIFICES.

Dangerous Alliance, An Austentacious Romance, Jennieke Cohen

ALTHEA GLARED AT HER WITH COLD EYES. “ARE YOU TRULY SO NAÏVE? AOONER OR LATER, YOU MUST DISCOVER THARE ARE SOME NIGHTMARES THAT DO NOT DISAPPEAR ON WAKING.”

Dangerous Alliance, An Austentacious Romance, Jennieke Cohen

VICKY’S BLOOD BOILED AT THE INJUSTICE OF IT ALL. WHY SHOULDN’T PARLIAMENT ALLOW A WIFE THE SAME RECOURSE AS A HUSBAND?

Dangerous Alliance, An Austentacious Romance, Jennieke Cohen

HER PARENTS’ MARRIAGE—AN ACTUAL LOVE MATCH THAT STILL FLOURISHED—CONSTITUTED THE EXCEPTION, RATHER THAN THE RULE. VICKY’S FATHER HAD NEVER SUBSCRIBED TO THE PHILOSOPHY THAT WOMEN WERE INFERIOR, FEEBLEMINDED BEINGS.

Dangerous Alliance, An Austentacious Romance, Jennieke Cohen

“I WANTED THE EVENING TO BE A SUCCESS.”

“WITH TWO OUTINGS WITH TWO SEPARATE GENTLEMEN, YOU CANNONT CALL IT A FALIUR.”

“I SUPPOSE NOT. THOUGH I WAS DREADFUL AT ACTING LIKE FANNY PRICE.”

“I CANNOT SAY I’M SURPRISED. I FYOU MUST ADOPT A PRETENCE, YOU’D BE FAR BETTER OFF IMITATING SOMEONE YOU ACTUALLY ADMIRE.”

TOM’S WORDS PLAYED IN VICKY’S MIND: JUST BECAUSE SENSATIONAL EVENTS HAPPEN IN NOVEL, THAT DOESN’T MEAN THEY CANNOT HAPPEN. THOUGH IT PAINED HER, HE’D BEEN RIGHT. HER LIFE WAS LOOKING LESS AND LESS LIKE ON OF MISS AUSTEN’S NOVELS AND MORE AND MORE LIKE AN UTTER MESS.

Dangerous Alliance, An Austentacious Romance, Jennieke Cohen

IT STARTS WITH A CRACK, A SPUTTER, AND A SPARK.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

“WHERE ARE WE GOING?” SHE CHIRPS, WRAPPING HER ARMS AROUND MY WAIST.

“INTO THE VILLAGE.”
“WHAT FOR?” SHE LETS GO OF MY DRESS AND LEANS BACK TO PEER UP AT ME.
“TO SELL YOU,” I SAY, TRYING TO KEEP A STRAIGHT FACE. “OR MAYBE JUST TO GIVE YOU AWAY.”

MY FATHER TAUGHT ME HOW TO TRACK, HOW TO READ THE GROUND AND THE TREES. HE TAUGHT ME THAT EVERYTHING HAS A LANGUAGE, THAT IF YOU KNEW THE LANGUAGE, YOU COULD MAKE THE WORLD TALK.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

IF THE MOOR WIND EVER SINGS, YOU MUSTN’T LISTEN, NOT WITH ALL OF YOUR EARS. USE ONLY THE EDGES. LISTEN THE WAY YOU’D LOOK OUT THE CORNERS OF YOUR EYES. THE WIND IS LONELY, LOVE, AND ALWAYS LOOKING FOR COMPANY.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

I DO NOT LIKE THE WAY MY CHEST TIGHTENS WHEN MY EYES SNAG ON HIM, AS IT DOES FOR WILD THINGS.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

IN THE MOONLIGHT THE MOOR IS A VAST GHOST OF A PLACE. THIN LINES OF FOG LEAVE THE WILD GRASS SHIMMERING, AND THE BREEZE BLOWS OVER THE HILLS IN SLOW WAVES.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

MY MOTHER MIGHT SWEAR BY KNEADING, BUT I SWEAR BY WALKING, BY RUNNING. MOVING. I HAVEN’T STOPPED MOVING IN THREE YEARS.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

“YOU LOOK JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER, STANDING THAT WAY. LIKE YOU CAN CHALLENGE THE WORLD AND THE WAY OF IT IF ONLY YOU CAN HOLD YOUR HEAD HIGH ENOUGH.”

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

MY HAND HURTS, BUT I’M SURE HIS FACE HURTS WORSE, AND NONE OF IT COMPARES TO THE SICKENING FEELING IN THE PIT OF MY STOMACH.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

SOMETIMES THE WIND WHISPERS NAMES, PERFECTLY CLEAR, THE WAY YOU MIGHT, ON THE VERGE OF SLEEP, IMAGINE YOU HEAR YOUR OWN. AND YOU NEVER KNOW IF THAT SOUND BENEATH YOUR DOOR IS ONLY THE HOWLING OF THE WIND, OR THE NEAR WITCH, IN HER SMALL STONE HOUSE OR IN HER GARDEN, SINGING THE HILLS TO SLEEP.

The Near Witch, Victoria Schwab

A DUSTY BEAM OF LIGHT WORMED ITS WAY THROUGH THE STONE, AND I LEANED IN, HOPING TO STEAL SOME WARMTH. I WAS A THIEF. IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN EASY, BUT THE WARMTH ELUDED ME.

Vow of Thieves, Mary E. Pearson

“THESE PAST WEEKS HAVE BEEN—”

I DIDN’T KNOW HOW TO FINISH, BUT I KNEW THERE HAD BEEN SOMETHING IN THESE DAYS TOGETHER THAT I DIN’T WANT TO LOSE, SOMETHING THAT WAS PRISTINE AND ALMOST SACRED. WE’D HAD NO OUTSIDE INFLUENCES TO COME BETWEEN US. I FEARED THAT MIGHT CHANGE.

I WILL GOUGE YOUR EYES OUT ONE AT A TIME AND FEED THEM TO THE DOGS.

THIS WAS THE “FAMILY” I WAS RETURNING TO . IT WASN’T JUST PRIYA’S THREATS THAT WORRIED ME, BUT THE GULF OF BROKEN TRUST I WASN’T SURE COULD BE BRIDGED AGAIN, NOT EVEN FOR JASE’S SAKE. I HAD SEEN VAIRLYN’S GUTTED EXPRESSION AS I TOOK HER SON AT KNIFEPOINT. I WOULD ALWAYS BE THE GIRL WHO HAD INVADED THEIR HOME, THE GIRL WHO HAD LIED AND STOLEN FROM THEM.

NOW IN UNEXPECTED MOMENTS I HEARD THE WARNING WHISPERS OF GHOSTS, AND DEATH TOOK PLEASURE IN TAUNTING ME, PUSHING ME. HE BECAME LIKE A QUARTERLORD I WAS DETERMINED TO BEAT, AND THE PRIZE WAS MY LIFE.

Vow of Thieves, Mary E. Pearson

SOME DAYS WERE WORSE THAN OTHERS, DELIRIUM GETTING A STRONG FOOTHOLD, IT SEEMED, ALL THE WAY INTO MY SOUL. I FOUGHT AGAINST IT. SOMETIMES IT WAS JASE WHO BROUGHT ME BACK FROM THE EDGE. HIS VOICE REACHED THROUGH THE DARKNESS.

Vow of Thieves, Mary E. Pearson

IN SPITE OF MY FEAR AND KNOCKING KNEES, I’D FOUND A WAY TO DISARM HIS SUSPICIONS AND MAKE OFF WITH TWO JUICY FIGS. I GLANCED UP AT BANQUES AND MONTEGUE. THINK OF THEM AS QUARTERLORDS, KAZI. PLAY THEM. FEED THEIR EGOS. EARN THEIR TRUST. THROW THEM CRUMBS, THE HOOK THEM BEHIND THE GILLS LIKE OPENMOUTHED FISH.

AND THEN CUT THEIR THROATS.

MY LABORATORY REEKS OF DEATH. NOT OF BLOOD AND FLESH AND DECAY, BUT THE GARLICKY BITE OF ARSENIC, THE MUSTY ESSENCE OF HEMLOCK, AND THE SWEET SMELL OF OLEANDER—LIKE ROSE WATER AND CITRUS.

An Affair of Poisons, Addie Thorley

TODAY I WILL KILL A MAN.

An Affair of Poisons, Addie Thorley

ORDINARILY, I TAKE NO SUCH PLEASURE IN DEATH— I CAN COUNT ON ONE HAND THE NUMBER OF TIMES I PROVIDED POISON TO MOTHER’S CLIENTS— BUT IF I EVER WERE TO RELISH THE ROLE OF REAPER, THIS IS ONE SUCH OCCASION.

An Affair of Poisons, Addie Thorley

SHE’S NAUGHT BUT A SINGLE STALK OF WHEAT AMID A VAST AND ROLLING FIELD, BUT I SEE THE EXACT MOMENT THE SUN KING NOTES HER PARCEL. IT’S AS IF HE’S BEWITCHED. HIS EYES CONTRACT AND HE STRIDES PURPOSEFULLY DOWN THE FENCE LINE, HIS CAPE BILLOWING LIKE A BANNER BEHIND HIM.

An Affair of Poisons, Addie Thorley

THE ONLY TIME MY MIND IS TRULY QUIET IS WHEN I’M ALONE IN THE LABORATORY, DISTILLING MY TREACHERY.

An Affair of Poisons, Addie Thorley

“ARE YOU ALWAYS SO CALM AND PRACTICAL, POISONER?”

ARE YOU ALWAYS SO LOUD AND OVERZEALOUS, PRINCELING?”

“NO, YOU’RE NOT LISTENING TO ME, LYRA. I DON’T THINK WE’VE GOT ANYTHING IN COMMON ANYMORE. I JUST CAN’T STAND WATCHING YOU TURN INTO THIS RANCOROUS, REDUCTIVE MONSTER OF COLD LOGIC. YOU’RE CHANGING, THAT’S THE POINT. I DON’T LIKE IT. DAMN IT, WE USED TO WARN EACH OTHER ABOUT THIS SORT OF—”

The Secret Commonwealth, Philip Pullman

“BUT YOU HAVEN’T GOT ANY INDEPENDENT REALITY. YOU KNOW THAT. IF I DIE—”

“NEITHER HAVE YOU, YOU STUPID COW. IF I DIED, SO WOULD YOU. TOUCHÉ.”

HOW STUBBORN SHE WAS HE HAD MORE CAUSE TO KNOW THAN MOST, BUT HE WONDERED HOW MANY OTHERS HAD SEEN THE LONELINESS IN HER EXPRESSION WHEN SHE WASN’T GUARDING IT.

The Secret Commonwealth, Philip Pullman

“YOU KNOW SOMETHING ABOUT LYRA?” HE SAID.

HE SPOKE QUIETLY, BUT HIS VOICE WAS VERY CLEAR. IT WAS DEEP AND RESONANT, THE VOICE OF A SINGER, PERHAPS. DICK WAS PUZZLED. IT WASN’T SURPRISING TO KNOW THE MAN WAS A SCHOLAR, BECAUSE OF THE INTELLIGENCE IN HIS FACE, BUT HE HAD THE AIR OF SOMEONE WHO KNEW HIS WAY AROUND THE REAL WORLD.

“THE POEM CALLED JAHAN AND RUKHSANA. IT RELATES THE ADVENTURE OF TWO LOVERS WHO SEEK A GARDEN WHERE ROSES GROW. WHEN THE TWO LOVERS ENTER THE ROSE GARDEN AFTER ALL THEIR TRIALS, GUIDED BY THE KING OF THE BIRDS, TEY ARE BLESSED WITH A NUMBER OF VISIONS THAT UNFOLD LIKE THE PETALS OF A ROSE AND REVEAL TRUTH AFTER TRUTH.”

The Secret Commonwealth, Philip Pullman

THERE’D BEEN NOTHING OF THE ALL-CONSUMING, ALL-PERVADING INTENSITY AND ARDENT PASSION SHE AND WILL HAD FELT TOGETHER, EACH FOR THE FIRST TIME…

THAT DREAM THOUGH: THE ONE IN WHICH SHE WAS PLAYING WITH WILL’S DAEMON ON THE MOONLIT GRASS, STROKING HER, WHISPERING TOGETHER, IN THRALL TO EACH OTHER. THE MEMORY OF IT WAS STILL ENOUGH TO MAKE HER BODY THROB AND MELT AND YEARN FOR SOMETHING IMPOSSIBLE, UNNAMEABLE, UNREACHABLE.

SHE WAS UNBALANCED BY TALBOT’S WORDS, IN A WAY THAT FELT LIKE READING THE ALETHIOMETER WITH THE NEW METHOD. THINGS THAT HAD BEEN STEADY WERE NOW UNFIXED; THE VERY GROUND WAS SHAKY; SHE TREMBLED ON THE EDGE OF VERTIGO.

The Secret Commonwealth, Philip Pullman

LYRA WONDERED FOR A MOMENT IF SHE OUT TO CURTSY, BUT DECIDED IMMEDIATELY THAT IT WOULD LOOK RIDICULOUS AND SIMPLY SAID, “GOOD AFTERNOON, PRINCESS. IT’S VERY GOOD OF YOU TO SEE ME.”

“IS THAT HOW YOU WERE BROUGHT UP TO ADDRESS A PRINCESS?” THE OLD WOMAN’S VOICE WAS DRY, ASTRINGENT, AMUSED.

“NO. THAT DIDN’T FORM PART OF MY LESSONS AT ALL. I CAN DO SEVERAL OTHER THINGS QUITE WELL, THOUGH.”

IF HE’D BEEN THE SORT OF BOY WHO ACQUIRED A NICKNAME, HE WOULD NO DOUBT HAVE BEEN KNOWN AS PROFESSOR, BUT HE WASN’T THAT SORT OF BOY. HE WAS LIKED WHEN NOTICED, BUT NOT NOTICED MUCH, AND THAT DID HIM NO HARM EITHER.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

THERE WAS PROBABLY NOWHERE, HE THOUGHT WHERE ANYONE COULD LEARN SO MUCH ABOUT THE WORLD AS THIS LITTLE BEND OF THE RIVER, WITH THE INN ON ONE SIDE AND THE PRIORY ON THE OTHER.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

MALCOLM’D HAVE LIKED TO BE A SCHOLAR HIMSELF, MAYBE AN ASTRONOMER OR AN EXPERIMENTAL THEOLOGIAN, MAKING DISCOVERIES ABOUT THE DEEPEST NATURE OF THINGS. TO BE A PHILOSOPHER’S APPRENTICE—NOW, THAT WOULD BE A FINE THING. BUT THERE WAS LITTLE LIKELIHOOD OF THAT.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

MALCOLM HAD NEVER SEEN A BABY AT CLOSE QUARTERS, AND HE WAS STRUCK AT ONCE BY HOW REAL SHE SEEMED. HE KNEW THAT WOULD BE A SILLY THING TO SAY, SO HE HELD HIS TONGUE, BUT THAT WAS HIS IMPRESSION ALL THE SAME: IT WAS UNEXPECTED THAT SOMETHING SO SMALL SHOULD BE SO PERFECTLY FORMED.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

MALCOLM WAS ENCHANTED. EVERYTHING ABOUT HER WAS PERFECT AND DELIGHTED HIM.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

IN ANY CASE, HE WOULD NEVER HAVE DREAMED, AFTER THOSE FEW MINUTES, OF DOING ANYTHING TO UPSET THAT LITTLE CHILD. HE WAS HER SERVANT FOR LIFE.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

ERIC HADN’T CHANGED MUCH, OF COURSE, AND MALCOLM FOUND THAT IF HE ASKED THE RIGHT QUESTIONS, ERIC WOULD TELL HIM THINGS THAT WERE SUPPOSED TO BE SECRET, BECAUSE THE PLEASURE OF KNOWING SECRETS WAS DOUBLED BY TELLING THEM TO PEOPLE.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

“WELL, CAN YOU AND MR. TAHOUSE GET ON AND MAKE SOME OF THOSE THINGS?”

“YES! I’LL START TONIGHT. HE’S GOT SOME LOVELY OAK.”

“RIGHT. WE’LL DO THAT. I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT SHE NEEDS.”

“BUT TELL ME, THE BABY— IS SHE BEING WELL LOOKED AFTER?”

“OH, YES. SISTER FENELLA, SHE LOVES HER LIKE—“ HE WAS GOING TO SAY LIKE I DO, BUT THOUGHT BETTER OF IT.

HE TURNED TO GLARE AT MALCOLM WITH THOSE UNFATHOMABLE EYES. MALCOLM STARED BACK CALMLY, THOUGH HE FELT ANYTHING BUT CALM: IF THAT MONKEY HAD A NAME, IT MIGHT BE MALICE, HE THOUGHT.

The Book of Dust, La Belle Sauvage, Phillip Pullman

Tomorrow, I start my senior year of high school, in a new school, in a new city. This is it. My last chance to not be invisible.

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

I knew that I liked it when boys’ swim trunks fell. But the fact that this would kill me, this was something I did not know until that moment. Until Time magazine informed me that I would die soon.

I’ve been living in fear ever since.

My mom once told me that no matter where you stand, you’ll think the Mona Lisa is looking right at you. That’s how I feel about this picture. Like Art is looking right at me. Like he sees me.

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

I need to live, and to live, I can’t ever be what I know that I am.

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

It’s the irony that hits me first. That I have never felt more alive, while I’m surrounded by people who are dying.

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

At school, the startched gray-and-navy-blue uniforms they make us wear basically tell us to conform to heterosexual norms, OR ELSE. Here in this room, I don’t need to be gray and navy, I can be a proud-@ss rainbow.

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

“If my face isn’t enough to scare young people into having safe sex,” the thin man says, “then I don’t know how protesting outside the department of education will help.”

He’s right. I look at his face and realize it’s the face I’ve been seeing in all my nightmares since I first understood what sex was. I basically want to sleep with everyone with a Y chromosome. But this man’s face is the face that stops me from acting on any of my abundant desires.

“It’s the parents,” I finally say. This is it, the gist of what I want to say, and once I start, I can’t stop. “It’s the parents who have to change first. Because so long as parents are telling their kids that being gay is a sin, or that this disease is God’s way of killing gay people, or that celibacy is the only way not to die, or that they can get it from sitting on the wrong toilet seat, the nothing else matters. Because teenagers, well, I mean, we don’t tell grown-ups what we do because we already know how they’re going to react. We already know that they’ll either pretend we never said what we said or they’ll ground us or blame us.”

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

When I told my parents what they should have already known from the Boy George posters on my wall, my dad just walked out of the room, like this was a business meeting he was cutting short. And my mom… she looked at me with disappointment, like I’d gotten a B-minus in math or something. Then she told me that it would all be okay, so long as I didn’t tell anyone or do anything.

Like a Love Story, Abdi Nazemian

“A duel?” I am flummoxed. “Why would he fight you?”

Madoc grins. “For love,” he says. “And for duty.”

“Love of whom?”

The Queen of Nothing, Holly Black

“There is no banquet too abundant for a starving man,” he says.

The Queen of Nothing, Holly Black

“It’s just—you hated him,” Taryn says. “and then I found out he was under your control the whole time. So I thought maybe you still hated him. I mean—I guess it’s possible that you hate him now and that he hates you, too, but it’s confusing.”

The Queen of Nothing, Holly Black

I feel like a constellation of wounds, held together with string and stubbornness. Still, I like hearing it. I like everything he’s saying all too well.
That boy is your weakness.

The Queen of Nothing, Holly Black

Skye will weave you a tapestry while there’s still time. It will be her last weaving. Because once the moon rises and they come for her, Sky will weave no more.

You can’t weave without hands.

Eris was used to being alone. Loneliness was a small price to pay for staying alive.

The Sky Weaver, Kristen Ciccarelli

He didn’t have time to indulge the whims of mortal creatures. They were nothing more than soon to be ghosts; their finite little lives beginning and ending in the span of a sunrise.

The Sky Weaver, Kristen Ciccarelli

Her green eyes seemed brighter. Her skin luminous as starlight. Her smile dangerous.

She seemed… more than human.

What are you?

Safire knew what it was like to be at the mercy of cruel men. She and her cousins still bore the marks of their terror. It was why Jarke was dead.

Safire had stopped tolerating abuse a long time ago.

Safire started at the sound of her name more than the touch of Eris’s fingers. She looked up into Eris’s eyes, which were solemn as she said, “I promise I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The Sky Weaver, Kristen Ciccarelli

“HOW MUCH LONGER?”

“I’VE NEVER KNOWN A SCYTHE TO BE SO IMPATIENT.”

“TIME IS NEVER OF THE ESSENCE UNTIL SOMEONE DECIDES THAT IT IS.”

JERICO COULDN’T ARGUE THE LOGIC. “IN THE BEST OF WORLDS, THIS OPERATION WOULD HAVE HAPPENED A LONG TIME AGO.”

TO WHICH POSSUELO RESPONDED, “IN CASE YOU HAVEN’T NOTICED, THIS IS NO LONGER THE BEST OF WORLDS.”

NO ONE CARED ABOUT A FAIL-SAFE UNTIL SOMETHING FAILED.

The Toll, Neal Shusterman

“NOTHING SURPRISES ME ANYMORE,” FARADAY TOLD HER.

The Toll, Neal Shusterman

“SCYTHE ANASTASIA IS NOT YOUR CONCERN.” “SHE’S MY ONLY CONCERN.”

The Toll, Neal Shusterman

“OR MAYBE WE SHOULD PUT YOU BACK IN THE VAULT AND RETURN YOU TO THE BOTTOM OF THE SEA.”

TO THAT, ROWAN SHRUGGED AND SAID, “WORKS FOR ME.”

“REST NOW. TROUBLE YOURSELF LATER.”

TROUBLE HERSELF. WAS THE WORLD SO TROUBLED NOW THAT A SMALL DOSE OF IT MIGHT RENDER HER DEADISH AGAIN?

CITRA SUPPOSED IT MUST ALWAYS BE THIS WAY; ONCE THE UNTHINKABLE SETTLES INTO BEING THE NORM, YOU BECOME NUMB TO IT. SHE NEVER WANTED TO BE THAT NUMB.

The Toll, Neal Shusterman

“YOUR NAIVETE IS REFRESHING, ANASTASIA. BUT THE TRUTH IS, POWER FOR POWER’S SAKE IS A CONSUMING ADDICTION. HE WOULD DEVOUR THE WORLD WHOLE, AND STILL BE UNSATISFIED.”

The Toll, Neal Shusterman

“I LIKE THE IDEA OF COMMUNICATION TETHERING YOU TO A SINGLE SPOT,” TENKAMENIN TOLD ANASTASIA. “IT FORCES YOU TO GIVE EVERY CONVERSATION THE ATTENTION IT DESERVES.”

The Toll, Neal Shusterman

AYN USED TO BELIEVE THE THINGS GODDARD DID WERE ALL PART OF A GREAT PLAN—BUT NOW SHE SAW THE TRUTH: THE PLAN ALWAYS CAME AFTER THE ACTION. HE WAS BRILLIANT AT FINDING SHAPES IN THE CLOUDS OF HIS FURY.

The Toll, Neal Shusterman

“WE’RE EXPLORING THE POSSIBILITY OF BUILDING A WALL TO STEM THE EXODUS.”

“DON’T BE RIDICULOUS,” GODDARD SAID. “ONLY IDIOTS BUILD WALLS.”

ANA HEARS EVERY WORD, BUT GUEST WOULD NEVER KNOW IT. SHE SCURRIES, FILLING REQUESTS QUICKLY SO VISITORS HAVE NO TIME TO GLANCE OUT OF THEIR WORLD AND INTO HERS. JULIA, THE MATRIARCH OF THEIR FRACTURED FAMILY, ISSUES CONTENT REMINDERS. “YOU TRUST TOO EASILY, ANA. YOU REVEAL TOO MUCH. STAY SILENT.” ANA IS TIRED OF SILENCE, TIRED OF UNANSWERED QUESTIONS, AND TIRED OF SECRETS.

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

ANA WANTS TO BE CONVERSATIONAL, BUT HER SISTER’S CALL FOR SILENCE CONTRADICT HOTEL INSTRUCTION. THE CONSTANT TUG IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS MAKES HER FEEL LIKE A RAG DOLL, DESTINED TO LOSE AN ARM.

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

MANY ARE UNAWARE OF WHAT TRANSPIRED IN SPAIN DECADES EARLIER. THEY SIP CAVA, ROMANTICIZING HEMINGWAY AND FLAMENCO. ON RARE OCCASION SOMEONE ASKS ANA ABOUT SPAIN’S WAR. SHE POLITELY CHANGES THE SUBJECT. IT’S NOT ONLY HOTEL POLICY, BUT ALSO THE PROMISE SHE MADE.

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

HER FATHER EXECUTED. HER MOTHER IMPRISONED. THEIR CRIME WAS NOT AN ACTION, BUT AN AMBITION—TEACHERS WHO HOPED TO DEVELOP A MONTESSORI SCHOOL WITH METHODS BASED ON CHILD DEVELOPMENT RATHER THAN RELIGION.

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

HER PARENTS’ OFFENSE HAS LEFT ANA ROWING DARK WATERS OF DEAD SECRETS. BORN INTO A LONG SHADOW OF SHAME, SHE MUST NEVER SPEAK PUBLICLY OF HER PARENTS. SHE MUST LIVE IN SILENCE. BUT SOMETIMES, FROM THE HIDDEN CORNERS OF HER HEART, CALLS THE HAUNTING QUESTION: WHAT CAN BE BUILD THROUGH SILENCE?

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

ANA’S SISTER, JULIA, SITS ON A WOODEN CHAIR IN THE CORNER. A LAMP RINGS A HALO OF QUIET LIGHT INTO HER LAP. SHE PUSHES A NEEDLE THROUGH THE RIGID SEVEN-LAYER FABRIC, SEWING ONE OF HUNDREDS OF SAPPHIRE GEMSTONES ONTO A CROPPED JACKET.

JULIA’S FINGER ARE SILENT NARRATORS, EMBROIDERED WITH SCARS.

FASCIST DOCTRINE STATES THAT A WOMAN’S ULTIMATE DESTINY IS MARRIAGE, MOTHERHOOD, AND DOMESTICITY. BUT JULIA IS SPECIAL. HER TALENT AS A SEAMSTRESS AFFORDS HER THE OPPORTUNITY TO WORK IN A SHOP. LUIS NEEDS JULIA’S SKILLS TO PLEASE HIS MATADORS. JULIA NEEDS THE WAYS TO FEED HER FAMILY AND PAY THEIR DEBTS.

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

“I’M NOT GREAT WITH WORDS, BUT I DISCOVERED I CAN SAY A LOT WITH A PHOTO,” SHRUGS DANIEL. “EACH ROLL IS AN ADVENTURE, WAITING FOR THE IMAGES TO BE DEVELOPED.”

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

“IF YOUR PICTURES AREN’T GOOD ENOUGH, YOU’RE NOT CLOSE ENOUGH.”

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

SOME LINES CREATE A NARRATIVE WITH PICTURES FROM THE SAME SETTING. OTHERS BUILD A STORY BY THE POSITIONING OF OPPOSITES.

The Fountains of Silence, Ruta Sepetys

IT’S A BAD IDEA. I HAVE WINGS. AND NO ONLY. AND I DON’T WANT TO GE DUMPED BY MY BOYFRIEND AT THE STATUE OF LIBERTY. I’D RATHER GET DUMPED RIGHT HERE, THANKS. ALSO I DON’T KNOW HOW TO DRIVE.

Wayward Son, Rainbow Rowell

ALL RIGHT, SO, YES, THINGS HAVEN’T BEEN GOING SO WELL. AND I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO SEE IT COMING. WAS SIMON SUPPOSED TO SEE IT COMING? HE DOESN’T SEE ANYTHING COMING! HE’S TAKEN ABACK BY TUESDAYS! WAS BAZ SUPPOSED TO SEE IT COMING? ALL BAZ HAS BEEN ABLE TO FOCUS ON FOR THE LAST YEAR IS SIMON; HE CAN’T SEE PAST THE HEARTS IN HIS OWN EYES.

NO, IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME.

I NEVER CALL PENELOPE BACK.

WHO EVEN CALLS PEOPLE ANYWAY? WHO LEAVES VOICEMAILS?

THERE’S A WOMAN STANDING IN LINE NEAR US, GIVING US HER MOST AGGRIEVED “DON’T BE GAY” FACE, BUT I DON’T CARE— EASY MOMENTS WITH SIMON ARE MISERABLY FEW AND FAR BETWEEN.

Wayward Son, Rainbow Rowell

HE LEAVES THE DOOR OPEN, WHICH I APPRECIATE. (F*ING MEN, ALWAYS TRYING TO TRAP YOU ALONE.)

Wayward Son, Rainbow Rowell

THE WHOLE COMING OUT THING DOESN’T REALLY SCARE ME.
I DON’T THINK IT SCARES ME.
IT’S A GIANT HOLY BOX OF AWKWARDNESS, AND I WON’T PRETEND I‘M LOOOKING FORWARD TO IT. BUT IT PROBABLY WOULDN’T BE THE END OF THE WORLD. NOT FOR ME.
THE PROBLEM IS, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT WOULD MEAN FOR BLUE.

BLUE DOESN’T LIVE IN CALIFORNIA. HE LIVES IN SHADY CREEK, AND HE GOES TO OUR SCHOOL. BLUE ISN’T HIS REAL NAME HE’S SOMEONE. HE MAY EVEN BE SOMEONE I KNOW. BUT I DON’T KNOW WHO. AND I’M NOT SURE I WANT TO KNOW.

THAT’S A PRETTY SEXY STORY, BLUE. I MEAN, MIDDLE SCHOOL IS LIKE THIS ENDLESS HORROR SHOW. WELL, MAYBE NOT ENDLESS, BECAUSE IT ENDED, BUT IT REALLY BURNS INTO YOUR PSYCHE. I DON’T CARE WHO YOU ARE. PUBERTY IS MERCILESS.

HONESTLY, THOUGH? I THINK THE REAL REASON I HAD GIRLFRIENDS WAS BECAUSE I DIDN’T ONE HUNDRED PERCENT BELIEVE I WAS GAY. OR MAYBE I DIDN’T THINK IT WAS PERMANENT.
I HAVE TO MEET HIM.
I DON’T THINK I CAN KEEP THIS UP. I DON’T CARE IF IT RUINS EVERYTHING. I’M THIS CLOSE TO MAKING OUT WITH MY LAPTOP SCREEN. BLUE BLUE BLUE BLUE BLUE BLUE BLUE.

– Simon Spier, Jaques
Simon vs. the Homo Sapien Agenda, Becky Albertalli

JUST SO YOU KNOW, YOUR BEING CUTE ISN’T THE REASON YOU’RE EASY TO TALK TO, BECAUSE IT REALLY SHOULD BE THE OPPOSITE. IN REAL LIFE, I GO TOTALLY SILENT AROUND CUTE GUYS. I JUST FREEZE UP. I CAN’T HELP IT. BUT I KNOW THE REAL REASON YOU WERE ASKING WAS BECAUSE YOU WANTED TO HEAR ME CALL YOU CUTE AGAIN, SO I WILL. YOU’RE CUTE, JACQUES. AND I GUESS YOU DO HAVE A THING ABOUT SENTENCE GRAGMENTS, BUT I SORT OF LOVE IT.

ANYWAY, I WANT TO THANK YOU. I DIDN’T TELL YOU THIS BEFORE, JACQUES, BUT YOU SHOULD REALLY KNOW THAT YOU’RE THE REASON I WAS ABLE TO DO THIS. I WASN’T SURE I’D EVER FIND THE COURAGE. IT’S REALLY KIND OF INCREDIBLE. I FEEL LIKE THERE’S A WALL COMING DOWN, AND I DON’T KNOW WHY, AND I DON’T KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN. I JUST KNOW YOU’RE THE REASON FOR IT. SO, THANKS FOR THAT.

– Blue, bluegreen118@gmail.com
Simon vs. the Homo Sapien Agenda, Becky Albertalli