I Wish I Could Say I Write

You Are Your Father's Daughter,' He Said, The Skin Around His Eyes Tightening. 'trent Is His Father's Son. Apart, You Are Annoying. Together...you Have The Potential To Be A Problem.

Her Elf Is Going To Do Just That,” He Said, The Red Glow Of The Ever-after Sun Turning His Hair Auburn, Almost As Red As Mine. “i Did Not Work This Hard At Getting Her To Accept Who She Is To Let You Take Your Spoiled Brat Of A Little-boy Temper Tantrum Out On Her. She Stays On My Side Of The Lines.

I’m Not Going To Pick Her Up And Carry Her Screaming To The Basement,” Trent Said. “it’s A Workday. Besides, She Has A Crutch.” “crutch Or No, She’s Hurt!” Ceri Protested. “i Mean,” Trent Said Intently, “she Can Hit Me With It If I Do Something She Doesn’t Like.

Shut Up," I Hissed. Ticked That He Was Taller Than Me, I Stepped Up Onto A Nearby Coffee Table. "i'm Not In A Cage Anymore," I Said, Keeping Enough Presence Of Mind Not To Poke Him In The Chest With A Finger. His Face Went Startled, Then Cloric. "the Only Thing Between Your Head And My Foot Becoming Real Close And Personal Right Now Is My Questionable Professionalism. And If You Ever Threaten Me Again, I'll Slam You Halfway Across The Room Before You Can Say Number-two Pencil. Got It, You Tall Freak Of Nature?

Al Was Looking At Me In Disbelief. “not Your Lover?” “no.” “but He Is Rachel Candy,” Al Said, His Confusion Too Honest To Be Faked.