Life Is Classified. There Is Always So

But Hale Wasn't Just A Member Of Her Crew Who Had Messed Up. He Was Hale. Her Hale. And Kat Just Wanted Him Back.

Kat Picked Up A Folder Labeled Senior. "what Are These? Bank Records?" She Did A Double Take, Looking At Hale. "did Your Dad Really Pay Two Million Dollars To The Campaign To Elect Ross Perot?" "i..." Hale Said, Stumbling For Words And Thumbing Through Another File. "wow. I Guess My Cousin Charlotte Isn't Really My Cousin." "don't Worry," Kat Said. "it Looks Like There Might Be A Kid In Queens Who Is.

I Never Knew There Were This Many Stars." "i Can't See Them," He Told Me. "i Just See You." "that's One Of Your Cheesier Lines," I Told Him. "it's The Altitude," He Told Me. "i Don't Have Enough Oxygen In My Brain." "i See.

You Know,' I Whispered, 'some Girls Might Think It's Creepy Having A Boy Watch Them Sleep.' He Smirked And Pointed To Himself. 'spy.' 'oh.' I Nodded. 'right. So You're A Trained Peeping Tom.' 'product Of The Best Peeping Academies In The Country.' 'well, Now I Feel Much Better.' 'you Should.

"no," Preston Snapped. But He Didn't Protest Long Because, If I'm Going To Be Honest - Which Is Kind Of The Point Of These Reports - I Was Already Unzipping His Pants.