Frozen By Fear. Not Able To Move.

The Girl Leaned Forward And Kissed Thomas On The Cheek. “you’re Sweet. I Really Hope We Don’t End Up Killing You, At Least.

I Sent A Lot Of Publishing Ideas To My Publisher, About 30 Of Them. Each Time Except 3, I Got A "rejection Letter". This Is Basically What A Rejection Letter Is Like: Hello Pathetic Moron, We Read Your Book. It Sucked. Don't Send Us Another One. If You Do, We Will Run Over Your Grandmother With A Bus. Don't Do It. From, Your Publisher

Bluh-huh-huh" Minho Groaned, A Shudder Of Repulsion, Like He'd Just Stepped In A Pile Of Klunk.

I'm A Crank. I'm Slowly Going Crazy. I Keep Wanting To Chew Off My Own Fingers And Randomly Kill People.

I Ought To Come Up There And Break Your Shuck Nose.