My Name's Jet Steele.

You’re A Terrible Liar, Sage, But I’m Still Touched You’d Attempt It For My Sake. A For Effort.

He Flipped The Dail, And I Crossed My Arms Over My Chest As Some Vaguely European-sounding Band Sang About How Video Had Killed The Radio Star. I Wished Someone Would Kill This Radio.

Lissa Knelt Down, Compassion On Her Face. I Wasn't Surprised, Since She'd Always Had A Thing For Animals. She'd Lectured Me For Days After I'd Instigated The Infamous Hamster-and-hermit-crab Fight. I'd Viewed The Fight As A Testing Of Worthy Opponents. She'd Seen It As Animal Cruelty.

He Shrugged. "the Same As Any Other. It's A Way To Make People Feel Better About Themselves. Everyone Likes Feeling Special. Being Part Of An Elite Group Is A Way To Do That." "but You Weren't Part Of It?" "no Need. I Already Know I'm Special.

We All Stared At The Scoreboard In Stunned Silence. Only Carter Was Able To Get Anything Out. "that," He Told Robert Exuberantly, "is How A Bird In The Hand Gets Up Before The Early Worm." "that Doesn't Make Any Sense," Said Roger. Carter Pointed At The Scoreboard. "neither Does That, But There You Have It.