I'm Someone Who Doesn't Have Anything To

You Really Saw Some?" Liz Said An Hour Later. Sure, We Had The Stereo Blaring And The Shower Running, But Liz Still Whispered, "they Really...exist?" "liz," I Whispered Back, "they're Not Unicorns." "no," Bex Said Flatly, "they're Boys. And They're...good.

You Switched The Days," I Said, Dismayed. "you Blew The Tire. You..." I Trailed Off, Probably Because The Next Words Out Of My Mouth Were Either Going To Be "you Are Enough To Do This?" Or "you're Destined For A Life Of Crime." It Was A Toss-up Either Way.

Like So Many Aspiring Writers Who Still Have Boxes Of Things They've Written In Their Parents' Houses, I Filled Notebooks With Half-finished Poems And Stories And First Paragraphs Of Novels That Never Got Written.

Thanks To You, Gabs, We Just Figured Out A Half Dozen Ways Not To Rob The Henley.

Hey I Bruise," Hale Said. "also, You Are Freakishly Strong.