Who Cared Whether You Could Change Motor

Don't Talk To The Crazy Kids. I Longed To Shout Back That We Weren't Crazy. I'd Mistaken Her Kid For A Ghost, That's All. I Wondered Whether They Had Books About His Sort Of Thing. Fifty Ways To Tell The Living From The Dead Before You Wind Up In A Padded Room. Yep, I'm Sure The Library Carried That One.

But Was It Wrong To Put Yourself First? That’s Called Survival, Right? If You’re Running For Your Life, You Don’t Get The Luxury Of Being Nice. They Were Going To Learn That. It’s Fine To Wave The Pompoms For Teamwork—all For One And One For All—but When Push Came To Shove, These Guys Wouldn’t Be Risking Their Lives For Chloe, Maybe Not Even For Each Other. I Was Sure Of It. Once Things Got Worse, It Would Be Every Kid For Himself. It Always Is.

He Said "cool" Like I Say A Spanish Word When I'm Not Sure Of The Pronunciation.

And Stop Doing That,” He Said. “backing Away, Giving Me That Look.” Like You’re Scaring Me? Maybe You Are.” He Stepped Back So Fast He Wobbled And Caught Himself, And The Look On His Face—it Vanished In A Second, The Scowl Returning. I’d Never Hurt You, Chloe. You Should Know—” He Stopped. Paused. Then Wheeled And Started Walking Away. “next Time? Handle It Yourself. I’m Done Taking Care Of You.

What's Next? If There Are Vampires In There, They Probably Drink Artificial Blood Plasma Substitute.