She needed Andrew Simpson Smith, it was that simple. And he had spent his life training to help people like her. Gods. "Okay, Andrew. But let's leave today. I'm in a hurry." "Of course. Today." He stroked the place where his slight beard was beginning to grow. "These ruins where your friends are waiting? Where are they?" Tally glances up at the sun, still low enough to indicate the eastern horizon. After a moment's calculation, she pointed..
God, you mean I lost my virginity to the apocalypse?" Morgan sighed again. "The whole thing was really embarrassing; my parents sent me to Brooklyn when they found out." She shrugged. "I thought I'd be safe in a gay bar, okay? What were you doing in there anyway?" Lace looked at me sidelong. "You were where?" I took a sip of beer, swallowed it. "I, uh, hadn't been in the city...very long. I didn't know."
A rat called Possible New Strain was sitting under a spaghetti strainer held down with a pile of journalism textbooks, saying rude things in rat-speak.
And what can we conclude from this lesson, Your Highness?" Alek glared at the man. "We can conclude, Count Volger, that discussing politics while fencing is idiotic."
He squeezed her hand. "Then I'll come get you, wherever you are when it happens. We'll be okay." "But what about everybody else?" He stared out across the river, nodding slowly. "My guess is, everybody else is in big trouble."
In a novel you always knew the moment when something Happened, when someone Changed. But real life was full of gradual, piecemeal, continuous transformation. It was full of accidents and undefineables, and things that just happened on their own. The only certainty was 'It's complicated,' whether or not unicorns tolerated your touch.
And here's what I realized: You Sly Girls don't cry when you watch the big-face parties on the feeds, just because you weren't invited. You don't stay friends with people you hate, just to bump your face rank. And even though nobody knows what you're doing out here, you don't feel invisible at all. Do you? No one answered, but they were listening. Fame is radically stupid, that's all. So I want to try something else.
Barking machines!" Dylan exclaimed. "Didn't I tell you? I've never seen a beastie that couldn't get up on its own. Well, except a turtle. And one of my auntie's cats." Alek raised an eyebrow. "And I'm sure your auntie's cat would have survived that aerial bomb." "You'd be surprised. He's quite fast."
She'd never have to cut herself again. She carries a knife inside herself now, one that was always cutting her. She could feel it every time she swallowed, every time her thoughts strayed.
That's the worst thing they do to you, to any of you. Whatever those brain lesions are all about, the worst damage is done before they even pick up the knife: You're all brainwashed into believing you're ugly.
Hoverboarding looks so fun, like being a bird. But actually doing it is hard work." Shay shrugged. "Being a bird's probably hard work too. Flapping your wings all day, you know?"
Anything more than friendship with her would destroy his chances of taking the throne. But every time one of them had fallen - in the snows of the Alps, in Istanbul, on the stormy topside, in that dusty canyon - the other had been there to pick them up. She couldn't imagine Alek leaving her for some daft crown and scepter.
Deryn had been there every step of the way. "We are connected, aren't we?" "Aye," she said, still chewing. "And for us to meet at all, I had to pretend to be a boy. Fancy that." "Barking destiny," Bovril said, then burped. Alek put his hands up in surrender. There were worse things than being connected to Deryn Sharp. In fact, the simple fact that she was smiling sent a wave of relief through him--she was his ally again, his friend. Pro..