Am I A Vampire?" Massie Asked. "huh?"

Because Whipping An Atlas At Jackson's Head While He Was Flirt-touching That Frankie Girl In Geography Would Have Been Very Satisfying. And Beating Him With The Eiffel Tower Snowglobe While He Kissed Cleo In French Would Have Been Tres Cathartic. But She Hadn't. Instead She'd Been Egg-like: A Hard Shell On The Outside, And A Runny Mess On The Inside.

She Didn't Mind A Little Rain. At Least No One Would See Her Cry.

After Each Dream, Frankie Woke With A Start, Soaked In Tears. But She Found No Relief In The Peaceful Silence Of Her Room, Because There Everything Was Real. And The Guilt Was Too Immense To Bear. Each Time She Opened Her Eyes, She'd Quickly Shut Them. And Wish That She Had Woken Up For The Very Last Time.

It Was An Image Melody Would Never Forget. Or Was It The Emotions The Image Conjured - Hope, Excitement, And Fear Of The Unknown, All Three Tightly Braided Together, Creating A Fourth Emotion That Was Impossible To Define. She Was Getting A Second Chance At Happiness And It Tickled Like Swallowing Fifty Fuzzy Caterpillars.

Is My Name Dorothy? No Then Why Do U Think Munchkins Could Help Me?