Wow What A Surprise Quotes

Let's suppose that you were able every night to dream any dream that you wanted to dream. And that you could, for example, have the power within one night to dream 75 years of time. Or any length of time you wanted to have. And you would, naturally as you began on this adventure of dreams, you would fulfill all your wishes. You would have every kind of pleasure you could conceive. And after several nights of 75 years of total pleasure each, you would say "Well, that was pretty great." But now let's have a surprise. Let's have a dream which isn't under control. Where something is gonna happen to me that I don't know what it's going to be. And you would dig that and come out of that and say "Wow, that was a close shave, wasn't it?" And then you would get more and more adventurous, and you would make further and further out gambles as to what you would dream. And finally, you would dream ... where you are now. You would dream the dream of living the life that you are actually living today.

You are a terrible liar. You do want this. Just as badly as I do.” My mouth opened, but no words came out. “You want this as badly as you want to go to ALA this winter.” Now my jaw was on the floor. “You don’t even know what ALA is!” “American Library Association midwinter event,” he said, grinning proudly. “Saw you obsessing over it on your blog before you got sick. I’m pretty sure you said you’d give up your firstborn child to go.” Yeah, I kind of did say that. Daemon eyes flashed. “Anyway, back to the whole you wanting me part.” I shook my head, dumbfounded. “You do want me.” Taking a deep breath, I struggled with my temper… and my amusement. “You are way too confident.” “I’m confident enough to wager a bet.” “You can’t be serious.” He grinned. “I bet that by New Year’s Day, you will have admitted that you’re madly, deeply, and irrevocably—” “Wow. Want to throw another adverb out there?” My cheeks were burning. “How about irresistibly?” I rolled my eyes and muttered, “I’m surprised you know what an adverb is.” “Stop distracting me, Kitten. Back to my bet—by New Year’s Day, you’ll have admitted that you’re madly, deeply, irrevocably, and irresistibly in love with me.” Stunned, I choked on my laugh. “And that you dream about me.” He released my arm and folded his, cocking an eyebrow. “I bet you’ll even admit that. Probably even show me your notebook with my name circled in hearts—” “Oh, for the love of God…” Daemon winked. “It’s on.

Oh. My. God. You're Rose Hathaway aren't you?" "Yeah." I said with surprise. "Do you know me?" "Everyone knows you. I mean, everyone heard about you. You're the one who ran away. And then you came back and killed the Strigoi. That is so cool! Did you get molnija marks?" Her words came out in one long string. She hardly took a breath. "Yeah. I have two." Thinking about the tiny tattoos on the back of my neck made my skin itch. Her pale green eyes—if possible—grew wider. "Oh my God. Wow." I usually grew irate when people made a big deal about molnija marks. After all, the circumstances had not been cool. But this girl was young, and there was something appealing about her. "What's your name?" I asked. "Jillian—Jill. I mean, just Jill. Not both. Jillian's my full name. Jill's what everyone calls me." "Right." I said, hiding a smile. "I figured it out." "I heard Moroi used magic on that trip to fight. Is that true? I would love to do that. I wish someone would teach me. I use air. Do you think i could fight Strigoi with that? Everyone says I'm crazy!" For centuries, Moroi using magic to fight had been viewed as a sin. Everyone believed it should be used peacefully. Recently, some had started to question that, particularly after Christian had proved useful in the Spokane escape. "I don't know." I said. "You should talk to Christian Ozera." She gaped. "Would he talk to me?" "If you bring up fighting the establishment, yeah he'll talk to you." "Okay, cool. Was that Guardian Belikov?" she asked, switching subjects abruptly. "Yeah." I swore I thought she might faint then and there. "Really? He's even cuter then I heard. He's your teacher right? Like, your own personal teacher?" "Yeah." I wondered where he was. Talking to Jill was exhausting. "Wow. You know you guys don't even act like teacher and student. You seem like friends. Do you hang out when you're not training?" "Er, well, kind of. Sometimes." I remembered my earlier thoughts, about how I was one of the few people Dimitri was social with outside of his guardian duties. "I knew it! I can't even imagine that—I'd be freaking out all the time around him. I'd never get anything done, but your so cool about it all, kind of like, 'Yeah. I'm with this totally hot guy, but whatever it doesn't matter!'" I laughed in spite of myself. "I think you're giving me more credit than I deserve." "No way. And I don't believe any of those stories, you know." "Um, stories?" "Yeah about you beating up Christian Ozera." "Thanks." I said.

And then . . . we’re going to get in my car.” I waited for him to elaborate on a destination. “And?” He gently kissed the nape of my neck. “What do you think?” I couldn’t help a small gasp of delight. “Oh, wow.” “I know, right? I was racking my brain for the best present ever, and then I realized that nothing was going to rock your world more than you and me in your favorite place in the entire world.” I swallowed. “I’m kind of embarrassed at how excited I am about that.” Never had I guessed my love of cars would play a role in my sex life. Eddie was right. Something had happened to me. “It’s okay, Sage. We’ve all got our turn-ons.” “You kind of ruined the surprise, though.” “Nah. It’s part of the gift: you getting to think about it for the next three days.

Brendan suddenly 'came out' to me. In my experience, the hardest thing about having someone 'come out' to you is the 'pretending to be surprised' part. You want him to feel like what he’s telling you is Big. It’s like, if somebody tells you they’re pregnant, you don’t say, 'I did notice you’ve been eating like a hog lately.' Your gay friend has obviously made a big decision to say the words out loud. You don’t want him to realize that everybody’s known this since he was ten and he wanted to be Bert Lahr for Halloween. Not the Cowardly Lion, but Bert Lahr. 'Oh, my gosh, no waaaay?' You stall, trying to think of something more substantial to say. 'Is everyone, like, freaking out? What a… wow.

It wasn't you're fault," I whisper. And then out of self-protection more than anything else, I bring the glory. I don't warn him or anything. I don't damp it down. I bring it. The room fills with light. "This is what I am," I say, my hair ablaze around my head. He squints at me. his jaw juts out a little in pure stubbornness. He stands his ground "I know," he says. I take a step towards him, close the space between us, put my glowing hand against his cheek. He starts to tremble. "This is what I am," I say again and my wings are out now. His knees wobble, but he fights it. He puts his hand at my waist, turns me, pulls me closer, which surprises me. "I can accept that," he whispers, and holds his breath, and leans in to kiss me His lips brush mine for an instant, and an emotion like victory tears through him, but he pulls away and glances at the front door. Groans. Christian is standing in the doorway. "Wow," Tucker says, trying to grin. "You really know how to cramp a guy's style." His legs give out. He falls to his knees. My light blinks off.

One of the most terrible losses man endures in his lifetime is not even noticed by most people, much less mourned. Which is astonishing, because what we lose is in many ways one of the essential qualities that sets us apart from other creatures. I'm talking about the loss of the sense of wonder that is such an integral part of our world when we are children. However, as we grow older, that sense of wonder shrinks from cosmic to microscopic by the time we are adults. Kids say "Wow!" all the time. Opening their mouths fully, their eyes light up with genuine awe and glee. The word emanates not so much from a voice box as from an astonished soul that has once again been shown that the world is full of amazing unexpected things. When was the last time you let fly a loud, truly heartfelt "WOW?" NOt recently I bet. Because generally speaking wonder belongs to kids, with the rare exception of falling madly in love with another person, which invariably leads to a rebirth of wonder. As adults, we are not supposed to say or feel Wow, or wonder, or even true surprise because those things make us sound goofy, ingenuous, and childlike. How can you run the world if you are in constant awe of it?... The human heart has a long memory though and remembers what it was like to live through days where it was constantly surprised and delighted by the world around it.

He looked up at me, stuttered a few times, and then seemed to forget what he was saying altogether. I didn't say anything, or act surprised that he stopped talking. I just stared at him, feeling my heart pounding in my throat. "Wow." He said. "What?" "You just left me speechless.

Do you think they have ice cream here?” Lanie asked. Kyle cocked his eyebrow, obviously surprised by her question. “I have no idea. Why do you ask?” “Because I like ice cream when I’m stressed,” she replied, thinking she wasn’t just stressed. She was burning up and needed something cold. “I don’t mean to cause you anxiety. Don’t worry. I’ll get you ice cream whether they have it here or not, if that’s what you want.” “Wow, Kyle, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” she replied with a smile.

Did you get me that movie about Genghis Khan? 'It's in the Netflix queue, but that's not the surprise. You don't need to worry, it'll be something good. I just don't want you to feel depressed about going home.' Oh, I won't. But it would be cool to have a stream like this in the backyard. Can you make one? 'Ummm... no.' I figured. Can't blame a hound for trying. Oberon was indeed surprised when we got back home to Tempe. Hal had made the arrangements for me and Oberon perked up as soon as we were dropped off by the shuttle from the car rental company. 'Hey, smells like someone's in my territory,' he said. 'Nobody could be here without my permission, you know that.' 'Flidais did it.' 'That isn't Flidais you smell, believe me.' I opened the front door, and Oberon immediately ran to the kitchen window that gazed upon the backyard. He barked joyously when he saw what was waiting for him there. 'French poodles! All black and curly with poofy little tails!' 'And every one of them in heat.' 'Oh, WOW! Thanks Atticus! I can't wait to sniff their asses!' He bounded over to the door and pawed at it because the doggie door was closed to prevent the poodles from entering. 'You earned it, buddy. Hold on, get down off the door so I can open it for you, and be careful, don't hurt any of them.' I opened the door, expecting him to bolt through it and dive into his own personal canine harem, but instead he took one step and stopped, looking up at me with a mournful expression, his ears drooping and a tiny whine escaping his snout. 'Only five?

It was an age before anyone responded. Nicky was too busy gaping at Neil to say anything, and Aaron was staring at Kevin as he waited for a translation. Andrew's surprise gave way to what a fool might mistake for delight, and he leaned forward on the desk. "Wow, another one of Neil's many talents. How many can one man have?

I went back in and grabbed my running clothes, then changed in the bathroom. I opened the door to the bathroom, stopping when I saw Kaidan's toiletry bag on the sink. I was overcome with curiosity about his cologne or aftershave, because I'd never smelled it on anyone else before. Feeling sneaky, I prodded one finger into the bag and peeked. No cologne bottle. Only a razor, shaving cream, toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. I picked up the deodorant, pulled off the lid, and smelled it. Nope, that wasn't it. The sound of Kaidan's deep chuckle close to the doorway made me scream and drop the deodorant into the sink with a clatter. I smacked one hand to my chest and grabbed the edge of the sink with the other. He laughed out loud now. “Okay, that must have looked really bad.” I spoke to his reflection in the mirror, then fumbled to pick up the deodorant. I put the lid on and dropped it in his bag. “But I was just trying to figure out what cologne you wear.” My face was on fire as Kaidan stepped into the small bathroom and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. I stepped away. He seemed entertained by my predicament. “I haven't been wearing any cologne.” “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Well, I didn't see any, so I thought it might be your deodorant, but that's not it either. Maybe it's your laundry detergent or something. Let's just forget about it.” “What is it you smell, exactly?” His voice took on a husky quality, and it felt like he was taking up a lot of room. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Something strange was going on here. I stepped back, hitting the tub with my heel as I tried to put the scent into words. “I don't know. It's like citrus and the forest or something...leaves and tree sap. I can't explain it.” His eyes bored into mine while he wore that trademark sexy smirk, arms still crossed. “Citrus?” he asked. “Like lemons?” “Oranges mostly. And a little lime, too.” He nodded and flicked his head to the side to get hair out of his eyes. Then his smile disappeared and his badge throbbed. “What you smell are my pheromones, Anna.” A small, nervous laugh burst from my throat. “Oh, okay, then. Well...” I eyed the small space that was available to pass through the door. I made an awkward move toward it, but he shifted his body and I stepped back again. “People can't usually smell pheromones,” he told me. “You must be using your extra senses without realizing it. I've heard of Neph losing control of their senses with certain emotions. Fear, surprise...lust.” I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms, wanting nothing more than to veer this conversation out of the danger zone. “Yeah, I do have a hard time reining in the scent sometimes,” I babbled. “It even gets away from me while I sleep now and then. I wake up thinking Patti's making cinnamon rolls and it ends up being from someone else's apartment. Then I'm just stuck with cereal. Anyway...” “Would you like to know your own scent?” he asked me. My heart swelled up big in my chest and squeezed small again. This whole scent thing was way too sensual to be discussed in this small space. Any second now my traitorous body would be emitting some of those pheromones and there'd be red in my aura. “Uh, not really,” I said, keeping my eyes averted. “I think I should probably go.” He made no attempt to move out of the doorway. “You smell like pears with freesia undertones.” “Wow, okay.” I cleared my throat, still refusing eye contact. I had to get out of there. “I think I'll just...” I pointed to the door and began to shuffle past him, doing my best not to brush up against him. He finally took a step back and put his hands up by his sides to show that he wouldn't touch me. I broke out of the confined bathroom and took a deep breath.

What's Luke doing here?" He kept the Harley steady while I got off. He swung his leg over and stood up, removing his helmet and gloves. "I called him from Jason's place. He's going to help us get your stuff moved over." "Wow." A laugh bubbled on my lips, surprising me after the heartbreak I'd experienced at Wyatt's house. "You don't waste any time." "Nope." He tipped his head with a cocky grin that launched butterflies in my stomach. "Don't want to wait for you to come to your senses.

Your grandparents are English?" "Grandfather is,but Grandmere is French. And my other grandparents are American,of course." "Wow.You really are a mutt." St. Clair smiles. "I'm told I take after my English grandfather the most, but it's only because of the accent." "I don't know.I think of you as more English than anything else.And you don't just sound like it,you look like it,too." "I do?" He surprised. I smile. "Yeah,it's that...pasty complexion. I mean it in the best possible way," I add,at his alarmed expression. "Honestly." "Huh." St. Clair looks at me sideways. "Anyway.Last summer I couldn't bear to face my father, so it was the first time I spent the whole holiday with me mum." "And how was it? I bet the girls don't tease you about your accent anymore." He laughs. "No,they don't.But I can't help my height.I'll always be short." "And I'll always be a freak,just like my dad. Everyone tells me I take after him.He's sort of...neat,like me." He seems genuinely surprised. "What's wrong with being neat? I wish I were more organized.And,Anna,I've never met your father,but I guarantee you that you're nothing like him." "How would you know?" "Well,for one thing,he looks like a Ken doll.And you're beautiful." I trip and fall down on the sidewalk. "Are you all right?" His eyes fill with worry. I look away as he takes my hand and helps me up. "I'm fine.Fine!" I say, brushing the grit from my palms. Oh my God, I AM a freak. "You've seen the way men look at you,right?" he continues. "If they're looking, it's because I keep making a fool of myself." I hold up my scraped hands. "That guy over there is checking you out right now." "Wha-?" I turn to find a young man with long dark hair staring. "Why is he looking at me?" "I expect he likes what he sees." I flush,and he keeps talking. "In Paris, it's common to acknowledge someone attractive.The French don't avert their gaze like other cultures do. Haven't you noticed?" St. Clair thinks I'm attractive. He called me beautiful. "Um,no," I say. "I hadn't noticed." "Well.Open your eyes." But I stare at the bare tree branches, at the children with balloons, at the Japanese tour group. Anywhere but at him. We've stopped in front of Notre-Dame again.I point at the familiar star and clear my throat. "Wanna make another wish?" "You go first." He's watching me, puzzled, like he's trying to figure something out. He bites his thumbnail. This time I can't help it.All day long, I've thought about it.Him.Our secret. I wish St. Clair would spend the night again.

So, dearest Madden, on a scale of one to ten ... am I fired?" "What, for completely disobeying orders and bringing public enemy number one back to the center of the liberal universe so we would have to actually pardon him?" "Something like that." "You know, this may surprise you, but the president of the United States, your commander in chief, wanted me to express her gratitude. She said she admires your moxie." "Wow. The president of the United States admires my moxie. Are you jealous?" "Maybe. It's possible. No one has ever said anything about my moxie." I slurp through my smirk.

We finally made our way to the front of the line, where a young bouncer snapped an underage wristband on me and gave me an appraising look, eyes scanning my waist-length hair before raising the velvet rope. I rushed under it with Jay on my heels. “For real, Anna, don't let me stand in the way of all these dudes tonight.” Jay laughed behind me, raising his voice as we entered the already packed room, music thumping. I knew I should have put my hair up before we came, but Jay's sister, Jana had insisted on my keeping it down. I pulled my hair over my shoulder and wound it into a rope with my finger, looking around at the tightly packed crowd and wincing slightly at the noise and blasts of emotion. “They only think they like me because they don't know me,” I said. Jay shook his head. "I hate when you say things like that.” “Like what? That I'm especially special?” I was trying to make a joke, using the term us Southerners fondly called people who "weren't right" but anger burst gray from Jay's chest, surprising me, then fizzled away. “Don't talk about yourself that way. You're just...shy.” I was weird and we both knew it. But I didn't like to upset him, and it felt ridiculous having a serious conversation at the top of our lungs. Jay pulled his phone from his pocket and looked at the screen as it vibrated in his hand. He grinned and handed it to me. Patti. “Hello?” I stuck a finger in my other ear so I could hear. “I'm just checking to see if you made it safely, honey. Wow, it's really loud there!” “Yeah, it is!” I had to shout. “Everything is fine. I'll be home by eleven.” It as my first time going to something like this. Ever. Jay had begged Patti for permission himself, and by some miracle got her to agree. But she was not happy about it. All day she'd been as nervous as a cat the vet.

I’m fine but, wow, thanks for asking! Very few people ask how Mom is doing; we usually get asked how baby is doing, and that’s that.” My simple “How are YOU?” was met with a complicated response when I asked my niece Anne what her life was like now that she had become a mom. This surprised me not at all.

Anything else you want to know? Dental records, fingerprints? Retinal scan?" "Urine sample would work." She rolled her eyes. "What cup you want me to use?" He was intrigued by her comebacks and the fact that she didn't appear angry over his questioning and word choice. "Does anything faze you?" "I fight people for a living. Do you honestly think peeing in a cup is going to frighten me?" She had a point… providing she wasn't lying about her occupation. Without a word, Aidan pulled a glass out of his cabinet and handed it to her. Her jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me? You really want a urine sample?" He actually smiled at her question. "Not hardly, but I thought you might be thirsty. The drinks are in the fridge." For once he saw relief in her gaze before she went and poured herself a glass of milk. "Thanks for showing some mercy." "Yeah," he said bitterly. "Just remember to return the favor." "Is that supposed to mean something?" He shrugged. "Just in my experience, all people do is take. None of them give a damn about helping someone else." "And sometimes people can surprise you." "Yeah. You're right. I'm constantly amazed by the unprovoked treachery they're capable of." She shook her head. "Wow, you arejaded.(Leta & Aidan)

I still get plenty anxious. The weird thing, and the unpleasant surprise for me, of proceeding well into the middle, perhaps even post-prime of my career is that writing books has not got any easier. And that doesn't seem fair. I mean, I've been doing it so surely I should be getting better at it, at least a little bit blasé... And it seems to be working absolutely the opposite. This book [Big Brother] I had no confidence in the entirety of its composition, and I only decided I liked it when I finished the very final draft. This means I'm in a state of semi-misery for a long time. And I can't blithely seem either that's some little game I'm playing with myself because, you know, you can easily come along and you don't like what's you're writing for good reason. Right? So, yeah, it's very anxious making, I don't think it's so much the becoming a little more successful, I think it's becoming slightly more aware of how much has already been written, and just becoming less self-impressed as the years go by. More impressed with some people who are better than I am, but... It doesn't wow me that I can write a sentence any more. It has to be a really good sentence. And... I think that's what potentially leads to paralysis in late career, is a kind of killing humility. Politics & Prose Bookstore in Washington, DC, on June 11, 2013

One day Ron Mael of Sparks casually asked Morgan what he thought of the recording we were making. Morgan gave it a thought and wisely said, ‘You have to put more sound between the speakers’, stretching his arms wide. Ron turned to me with a surprised expression on his face and said, ‘Wow.’ Morgan’s suggestion made us widen the stereo soundscape of that mix.

What if people start mistreating their robots? Purposefully?” “Mistreating a robot?” Matt echoed, as though I’d spoken a different language, and then a sly grin spread over his features. “You mean like, pushing its buttons? Get it?” I had a hard time fighting my smile at his goofiness. “No. I mean—” “Or playing something other than its favorite music, which everyone knows is heavy metal.” I groaned, laughing and shaking my head. “Oh wow. That was impressive.” “Thank you, thank you.” As he examined my face, his smile deepened and his eyes warmed, as though he was both surprised and pleased by my laughter. “Sorry for interrupting, I just have a million robot jokes and no one lets me tell them.” “You can tell them to me, anytime.” “Good to know.

Gwen said, “Wow.” Martin swelled a bit with pride. Gwen continued. “Those wolves seemed really easy to kill.” Martin deflated. “Well, maybe I made it look easy.” “Maybe,” Roy said. “It could be we were dazzled by your battle cry, ‘ai-yi-yi.’ ” “I did not yell ‘ai-yi-yi,’ did I?” Martin asked. Roy said, “You did, but I’m not surprised you didn’t notice it, what with you being in a berserker rage and all.

Wow,” Wesley said. We were lying in his bed only a few minutes after we’d finished, with a foot or more space between our bodies. “I definitely wasn’t expecting that.” God, he ruined everything when he talked. Annoyed, and still wading through the emotional repercussions, I sneered. “What? Ashamed that you screwed the Duff?” “No.” I was surprised by how serious he sounded. “I’m never ashamed of anyone I sleep with. Sex is a natural chemical reaction. It always happens for a reason. Who am I to dictate who experiences the joy of sharing my bed?” He didn’t see me roll my eyes as he continued. “No, I just meant that I’m shocked. I was honestly starting to believe that you hated me.” “I do hate you,” I assured him, kicking off the covers and moving to pick up my clothes. “You must not hate me too much,” Wesley said, rolling onto his elbow and watching me dress. “You did pretty much throw yourself at me. Generally, hatred doesn’t inspire that kind of passion.” I pulled on my T-shirt. “Believe me, Wesley, I definitely hate you. I was just using you. You use people all the time, so I’m sure you understand.” I buttoned my jeans and grabbed my alligator clip from the nightstand. “This was fun, but if you ever tell anyone, I swear I’ll castrate you.

Are you adopted?” Jason asked. “No,” Neil said. “Your parents are elves?” “Of course they are,” Neil said. “What are you getting at?” “Is your milkman a human?” “What in the world are you talking about?” Neil asked. “I’m just wondering why you aren’t an elf,” Jason said. “I am an elf.” “You’re an elf?” Annoyed, Neil brushed back his hair to reveal a tapered ear. “Wow,” Jason said, not hiding his surprise. “Why would you think I’m a human?” Neil asked. “Well, it’s just… look. Elves are a slender bunch. Except for Lucian Lamprey, who is probably on some kind of magical roids, but that’s beside the point. For a human, your proportions are completely healthy. For an elf, though, you’re bit of a chunker.” “Excuse me?” “You know, an extra bit of heft. Too much time at the sandwich shop. An overenthusiastic between-meal-snacker.” “Are you saying I’m fat?” “I’m not saying you’re fat,” Jason assured him. “I don’t think that’s even possible for essence users. I’m saying you look fat. For an elf.” “This is how you try and recruit someone?” Neil asked incredulously.

Stop staring at Kevin so much. You're making me fear for your life over here." "What do you mean?" "Andrew is scary territorial of him. He punched me the first time I said I'd like to get Kevin too wasted to be straight." Nicky pointed at his face, presumably where Andrew had decked him. "So yeah, I'm going to crush on safer targets until Andrew gets bored of him. That means you, since Matt's taken and I don't hate myself enough to try Seth. Congrats." "Can you take the creepy down a level?" Aaron asked. "What?" Nikcy asked. "He said he doesn't swing, so obviously he needs a push." "I don't need a push," Neil said. "I'm fine on my own." "Seriously, how are you not bored of your hand by now?" "I'm done with this conversation," Neil said. "This and every future variation of it. [...]" The stadium door slammed open as Andrew showed up at last. He swept them with a wide-eyed look as if surprised to see them all there. "Kevin wants to know what's taking you so long. Did you get lost?" "Nicky's scheming to rape Neil," Aaron said. "There are a couple flaws in his plan he needs to work out first, but he'll get there sooner or later." [...] "Wow, Nicky," Andrew said. "You start early." "Can you really blame me?" Nicky glanced back at Neil as he said it. He only took his eyes off Andrew for a second, but that was long enough for Andrew to lunge at him. Andrew caught Nicky's jersey in one hand and threw him hard up against the wall. [...] "Hey, Nicky," Andrew said in stage-whisper German. "Don't touch him, you understand?" "You know I'd never hurt him. If he says yes-" "I said no." "Jesus, you're greedy," Nicky said. "You already have Kevin. Why does it-" He went silent, but it took Neil a moment to realize why. Andrew had a short knife pressed to Nicky's Jersey. [...] Neil was no stranger to violence. He'd heard every threat in the book, but never from a man who smiled as bright as Andrew did. Apathy, anger, madness, boredom: these motivators Neil knew and understood. But Andrew was grinning like he didn't have a knife point where it'd sleep perfectly between Nicky's ribs, and it wasn't because he was joking. Neil knew Andrew meant it. If Nicky so much as breathed wrong right now, Andrew would cut his lungs to ribbons, any and all consequences be damned. Neil wondered if Andrew's medicine would let him grieve, or if he'd laugh at Nicky's funeral too. Then he wondered if a sober Andrew would act any different. Was this Andrew psychosis or his medicine? Was he flying too high to understand what he was doing, or did his medicine only add a smile to Andrew's ingrained violence? [...] Andrew let go of Nicky and spun away. [...] Aaron squized Nicky's shoulder on his way out. Nicky looked shaken as he stared after the twins, but when he realized Neil was watching him he rallied with a smile Neil didn't believe at all. "On second thought, you're not my type after all,” Nicky said [...]. "Don't let him get away with things like that." Nicky considered him for a moment, his smile fading into something small and tired. "Oh, Neil. You're going to make this so hard on yourself. Look, [...] Andrew is a little crazy. Your lines are not his lines, so you can get all huff and puff when he tramps across yours but you'll never make him understand what he did wrong. Moreover, you'll never make him care. So just stay out of his way." "He's like this because you let him get away with it," Neil said. [...] "That was my fault. [...] I said something I shouldn't have, and got what I deserved.

This might baffle you, but despite not being a physician, I do have some pride. Although most certainly not enough to withstand the kind of beating you're capable of dealing it. The kind of beating you've repeatedly dealt it from the first time we've met. You're right, I value honesty, so I'll tell you that I make it a practice not to find women who insult me at every opportunity attractive." Color flooded her cheeks and traveled down her neck. Finally, she stepped away from him, too, and found the back of a chair to clutch. She looked entirely devastated. Had no one ever denied her anything? He hated the hurt in her eyes. But it was done now. "How is telling you I'm attracted to you an insult?" He pressed the back of his hand into his forehead. It made him feel like a drama queen in some sort of musical farce. Which this had to be. "Telling me how unworthy I am of your attraction, that's the insulting part. And, no, that's not all it is. Even if you hadn't told me at every opportunity how inferior to you I am... all I do is cook... every assumption you've made about me is insulting. Culinary school is definitely college. And Le Cordon Bleu is one of the most competitive institutions in the world. The fact that that's so wholly incomprehensible to you... that's the insulting part. And it wasn't thrown in my overly privileged lap either. I had to work my bottom off to make it in." Ammaji had sold her dowry jewels to pay for his application, something her family would have thrown her out on the street for had they found out. Trisha squared her shoulders, the devastation draining fast from her face, leaving behind the self-possession he was so much more used to. And the speed with which she gathered herself shook something inside him. "I might not do what you see as important work, but I work hard at being a decent human being, and I would need anyone I'm with to be that first and foremost. Even if I didn't find snobbery in general incredibly unattractive, I would never go anywhere near a person as self-absorbed and arrogant as you, Dr. Raje. I would have to be insane to subject myself to your view of me and the world." "Wow." She was panting, or maybe it was him. He couldn't be sure. "You wanted honesty. I'm sorry if I hurt you." She cleared her throat. "I'm surprised you think someone as... as... self-absorbed and arrogant as me is even capable of being hurt.

When I come down the stairs, Peter is sitting on the couch with his mom. He is shaking his knee up and down, which is how I know he’s nervous too. As soon as he sees me, he stands up. He raises his eyebrows. “You look--wow.” For the past week, he’s been asking for details on what my dress looks like, and I held him at bay for the surprise, which I’m glad I did, because it was worth it to see the look on his face. “You look wow too.” His tux fits him so nicely, you’d think it was custom, but it’s not; it’s a rental from After Hours Formal Wear. I wonder if Mrs. Kavinsky made a few sly adjustments. She’s a marvel with a needle and thread. I wish guys could wear tuxedos more often, though I suppose that would take some of the thrill away. Peter slides my corsage on my wrist; it is white ranunculus and baby’s breath, and it’s the exact corsage I would have picked for myself. I’m already thinking of how I’ll hang it over my bed so it dries just so. Kitty is dressed up too; she has on her favorite dress, so she can be in the pictures. When Peter pins a daisy corsage on her, her face goes pink with pleasure, and he winks at me. We take a picture of me and her, one of me and Peter and her, and then she says in her bossy way, “Now just one of me and Peter,” and I’m pushed off to the side with Trina, who laughs. “The boys her age are in for it,” she says to me and Peter’s mom, who is smiling too. “Why am I not in any of these pictures?” Daddy wonders, so of course we do a round with him too, and a few with Trina and Mrs. Kavinsky. Then we take pictures outside, by the dogwood tree, by Peter’s car, on the front steps, until Peter says, “Enough pictures! We’re going to miss the whole thing.” When we go to his car, he opens the door for me gallantly. On the way over, he keeps looking at me. I keep my eyes trained straight ahead, but I can see him in my periphery. I’ve never felt so admired. This must be how Stormy felt all the time.

Do you know if John McClaren still does Model UN?” He gives me a funny look. “How should I know?” “I don’t know. I was just wondering.” “Why?” “I think maybe I’m going to go to the Model UN scrimmage this weekend. I have a feeling that he’ll be there.” “For real?” Peter hoots. “If he is, what are you going to do?” “I haven’t figured that part out yet. Maybe I’ll go up to him, maybe I won’t. I just want to see how he turned out.” “We can look him up online right now and I’ll show you.” I shake my head. “No, that would be cheating. I want to see him with my own eyes. I want to be surprised.” “Well, don’t bother asking me to go and keep you company. I’m not going to waste a whole Saturday on Model UN.” “I wasn’t planning on asking you to go.” Peter throws me a hurt look. “What? Why not?” “It’s just something I want to do by myself.” Peter lets out a low whistle. “Wow. The body ain’t even cold yet.” “Huh?” “You’re a little player, Covey. We aren’t even broken up yet and you’re already trying to talk to other guys. I would be hurt if I wasn’t impressed.” This makes me smile.

Well this wasn’t Vegas, and this wasn’t Disneyland, this was ‘Erotica- The Theme Park – featuring Femdom World, Slave World, Bondage World, Spanking World – and so much more!’ -according to the brochure Jillian and Rebecca handed me with great fanfare the next day. -This is a beautiful brochure, I said – very- -Glossy , said Rebecca. -Right, I studied it some more – so is this…I mean – legal? I mean, is it for real? -O yes, they said. -Well. Wow, I guess. -Wow is right, they said. Jillian had been on some trip with one of her many very rich and very ugly men friends, and they had shown her the place. (no she didn’t say to what extent she was ’shown’ the place. She was very tight lipped about it, -wanted everything to be a surprise, she said) To be aware of Erotica-The Theme Park, and its Hotel Ecstasy you need money, connections, and more. In fact you need at least a 100 ft yacht to dock at its private Marina. And no I can’t tell you where it is, otherwise they will revoke my membership pass and kill my first born. But let’s say - it’s on an island, with warm water ,pure white sand beaches, it’s for the very rich, and it’s not far , by private helicopter from certain well known islands in let’s say, the Caribbean.

It takes some getting used to,' Mr. Forkle said. 'But what you're seeing is a visual representation of each other's moods.' 'So that means if I do this...' Keefe tickled Sophie's neck. 'GAH--everything just went supersonic!' Fitz said. Sophie snatched Keefe's wrist as he reached to tickle her again. 'Don't. You. Dare.' 'Whoa, now everything's red and ripply,' Fitz said. 'Is that because she's angry?' 'Precisely, Mr. Vacker. Every time her emotions shift, the patterns and colors will change. And with practice, you'll learn to interpret what you see.' 'Okay, but...can't they just say, "Hey, I'm feeling this?"' Keefe asked. 'People aren't always honest about their feelings--even with themselves,' Mr. Forkle told him. 'Plus, many telepathic missions involve stealth and secrecy. So for this exercise I'm going to need both of you to forget everything around you. Let the world drop away, leaving only you two.' Keefe sighed. 'Just tell them to stare into each other's eyes and they'll be good.' 'None of that, Mr. Sencen. From this moment on, you have one job and one job only: to judge their translations of the various emotions I'll be triggering.' 'Triggering how?' Sophie asked. 'You'll see soon enough. And you'll go first, Miss Foster. For this to work, Mr. Vacker, it's crucial that you not react externally. No yelling or thrashing or screaming or--' 'Uhhh, what are you going to do to me?' Fitz asked. 'Nothing you won't survive. Consider it an exercise in self-control. And try not to listen to his thoughts, Miss Foster. Study only the changes in his emotional center and make your deduction. We begin now.' Sophie closed her eyes and focus on the colors weaving around Fitz's mind. She was about to ask if she was missing something when the pattern exploded into a swirl of pale blue tendrils. The color felt to bright to be sad, but also too wild to be peaceful. 'Tension?' she guessed. 'Kinda close,' Keefe told her. The laughter in his voice made her wonder what had happened to poor Fitz. She tried to think of other emotions as his mind turned electric blue. 'Shock?' she guessed. 'That counts,' Keefe said. 'Though the best answer would've been "surprise."' 'Is that an emotion?' she asked. 'Indeed it is,' Mr. Forkle said. 'One of the most common emotions you'll experience as you navigate someone's mind--hence why I chose it as our starting point.' 'Can I talk now?' Fitz asked. 'Because that was seriously disgusting!' Sophie opened her eyes and tried not to laugh when she saw red fruit smashed all over Fitz's face. He wiped his cheeks on his sleeves, but that only smeared the pulp. 'I think I'm going to like this assignment,' Keefe said. 'What else can we fling at Fitz?' 'Nothing for the moment,' Mr. Forkle told him. 'It's his turn to interpret. Everyone close your eyes. And remember, no cues of any kind, Miss Foster.' Sophie counted the seconds, bracing for the worst--and when nothing chaned, she opened her eyes and found Mr. Forkle with his finger over his lips in a 'shhh' sign. 'Um...confusion,' Fitz guessed. 'That works,' Keefe said. 'It started as anticipation, but then it shifted.' 'Very good,' Mr. Forkle said. 'And well done, Mr. Sencen. I wasn't sure you'd recognize confusion. It's one of the more challenging emotions for Empaths.' 'Maybe on other people,' Keefe said. 'But on Foster it's easy. Why are her emotions so much stronger?' 'Honestly, I'm not sure,' Mr. Forkle admitted. 'I suspect it stems from the combination of her inflicting ability and her human upbringing. But it was one of the surprises of her development. Much like her teleporting. Okay, Miss Foster, it's your turn to guess again.' She closed her eyes and watched as the lines of color in Fitz's mind blossomed to a snowflake of purple. 'Pride?' she guessed. Keefe laughed. 'Wow, add more fail points to Sophitz.' 'Quiet,' Mr. Forkle told him.

Around Christmas 2003, we visited Chris’s parents in Texas. I found myself exceptionally hungry, though I couldn’t figure out why. When we came back to California, I just felt something was off. Could I be…pregnant? Nah. I bought a pregnancy test just in case. Chris and I had always planned to have children, but we weren’t in a rush about it. In fact, we had only recently decided to be “a little less careful.” It was a compromise between our spontaneous impulses and our careful planning instincts, which we both shared. We figured, if it happens somewhere in the next year… I was upstairs in the house working when I decided to take a break and check things out. Wow. WOW!!! Chris happened to be home fiddling with something in the garage. I ran downstairs, holding the stick in my hand. When I got there, I held it up, waving. “Hey, babe,” he said, looking at me as if I were waving a sword. “Come here,” I said. “I have to show you something.” He came over. I showed him the stick. “Okay?” “Look!” “What is it?” “Look at this!” Obviously, he wasn’t familiar with home pregnancy tests. Maybe that’s a guy thing-given that the tests reveal either your worst nightmare or one of the most exciting events of your life. I’d wager every woman in America knows what they are and how they work. Slowly it dawned on him. “Oh my God,” he said, stunned. “Are you…?” “Yes!” We confirmed it at the doctor’s soon after. I know you’re supposed to wait something like twelve weeks before telling anyone-there’s so much that can go wrong-but we couldn’t keep that kind of secret to ourselves for more than a few days. We ended up sending packages with an ultrasound and baby booties-one pink, one blue-to our parents, telling them we had a late Christmas surprise and to call us so we could be on the phone when they opened them.

One of my best friends is LinDee Loveland, who is a Bible teacher at OCS and the children’s minister at our church. She and another friend and teacher, Mrs. Rita, were there at the hospital with us. As soon as they heard that everything had gone well, the two of them gathered all of Mia’s cousins together. “Missy, what’s Mia’s room number?” LinDee asked. I rattled it off, then quickly caught up with Jase, who was heading to the recovery room. We spent an hour in the recovery room with Mia, and when she was ready to be moved to her regular hospital room, Jase and I walked beside her gurney. When we walked into her room, I burst into tears. Mia’s room was beautiful! Several weeks before Mia’s scheduled surgery, Mrs. LinDee had asked the children at church to make snowflakes that would be given to a child who needed some encouragement. Mia even made one herself and signed it. “Each individual snowflake is special, and no two are alike,” Mrs. LinDee told them. “It’s the same way with us,” she shared. “No two people are alike. God makes everyone unique and special, with a purpose designed to glorify Him.” Later, when Mia wasn’t there, she asked all the children to make cards for Mia. When LinDee and the cousins scooted out of the waiting room, they went straight to Mia’s room and hung up the cards and the snowflakes all over her room. Mia was awake by the time she got back to her room, and when she saw the decorations, she literally oohed and ahhed. Dr. Sperry and Dr. Genecov both made the same comment when they visited Mia later. “I’ve never seen a room like this! This is the most decorated room that’s ever been in this hospital!” And Dr. Sperry summed it up beautifully: “Wow, somebody must really love you.” Having a room decorated means so much to a child--and maybe even more to a child’s parents. The fact that so many of Mia’s friends had created such exquisite, handmade snowflakes and worked so hard to make cards for her, and that Mrs. LinDee, Mrs. Rita, and all the cousins surprised us with the final display, spoke volumes to me about the way people loved Mia and our family. That expression of creativity was not only beautiful, it also touched my heart deeply.

them.” “Well, since we’re waiting on a fresh warlock, you have time then, right?” “I mean, yeah, I guess so, but—” “That’s alright, I won’t force you to go. I know you have a lot on your mind, but just consider it, okay?” I nodded. “Yes, sir.” We cleaned up the field some more. After a while, I asked, “Hey, where’s Lukester and Cindy? I don’t see them anywhere.” “If they are not here, then they must be at the hospital helping the wounded,” said Adrian. “Okay, I think I’ll head over there, then.” “Sure, Steve. Adrian and I will continue cleaning up here,” said the mayor. Adrian turned to look at the mayor. It looked like he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue. “Alright, see you guys later.” I turned and walked away. Adrian and the mayor waved at me, then they continued picking up weapons. As I walked away, I suddenly remembered that I wanted to ask the mayor something about the mining operation. So, I busted a U-turn and walked toward the mayor. Adrian and the mayor were both busily working and had their backs facing me. “I don’t want him spiraling into depression over the Bob and horse thing, so make sure you keep him busy,” I overheard the mayor say. “Yes, sir,” replied Adrian. “There was a time when he fell into depression and he just lay in bed for days. I don’t want the same thing happening again.” Adrian nodded. “I’ll have plenty for him to do in the coming days, and with the party coming up, I plan to have all sorts of activities to distract him.” “Yes, sir.” “Good, please help me clean up for another five minutes, then go join Steve.” “As you wish.” They were clearly talking about me, and I didn’t want to interrupt them. So, I quietly spun 180 degrees and made my way to the hospital. As I walked, I thought, Wow… the mayor is really concerned about my state of mind. I had no idea… I reached the hospital and found a bunch of patient-filled beds outside. The place was completely packed, so packed that they had to treat patients outdoors. Cindy caught my eye as she frantically ran about from patient to patient. “Cindy!” I yelled. She gasped and turned around. “Steve, shhh…” she whispered. “Some of the patients are sleeping. “Oh, sorry…” She walked over to me. “How are you? Feeling good? Any injuries?” “Hm… now that you mentioned it, I’m surprised that I don’t have any injuries.”  Cindy beamed a huge smile. “I had a splash potion of regeneration in my personal chest at home. I used it on you while you slept.” “You did? No wonder.” “That was my last one. I was saving it for a special situation, and I guess saving a friend from pain is a pretty good reason to use it.” “Aw… thank you so much, Cindy.” “You’re welcome, Steve. So, are you here to help today?” “Help?” “Yeah, help with the wounded?” “Uh, um, sure. Yeah, I can help, but actually, I wanted to speak with you about something.” “Oh? What’s up?” “Well…” I explained to Cindy about what happened. “Oh, no… so she wouldn’t change Paul right away?” asked the potioneer. I shook my head. “I begged her, but she absolutely refused.” “Aw…” “So, I was wondering if you could give it a try?” “You want me to ask her to change Paul into a warlock?” “Yeah, could you do that for me? As a favor?” “Well, of course I’d be willing to, but what about Paul? Is he okay with this plan?” Cindy asked. “I think Paul will be way easier to convince once Wanda is on board.” Cindy nodded. “You’re right. Okay, my shift here doesn’t end for another few hours. I’ll head over to Wanda’s afterward.” “Yass!

You know, this is really hard,” he said to no one in particular. “Normally I can figure these things out, but this one is really hard.” I had two reactions to the comment, both of which I kept to myself. “No kidding” was the first reaction. A whole lot of smart people had been banging on this incredibly complicated issue for years. My second reaction was to be struck by the president’s breathtaking confidence. To my eye, at least, he wasn’t puffing or trying to show off. He also wasn’t being self-deprecating or sarcastic in the way President Bush might have. He really did believe that he, Barack Obama, could always figure out the hardest stuff. He couldn’t figure this one out, which surprised him. Wow, I thought. I really didn’t know what to make of it.

Then came Dani’s turn to read a question. “‘Who’s in charge in the bedroom?’” Much to the group’s amusement, none of them got a match, and Sean didn’t think they would either as he held up his notepad. “‘I am, since I carry the big stick.’” Emma read hers with a remarkably straight face. “‘Sean, because he has a magic penis.’” “Wow. Um…so Sean and Emma have a point,” Dani said as the men nearly pissed themselves laughing. No way in hell was he leaving that unpunished, and he winked at Emma when Kevin read the next question. “‘Where’s the kinkiest place you’ve had sex?’” The fact that Joe and Keri had done the dirty deed on the back of his ATV led to a few questions about the logistics of that, but then it was Emma’s turn. “‘In bed, because Sean has no imagination.’” Roger threw an embarrassed wince his way, but his cousins weren’t shy about laughing their asses off. Sean just shrugged and held up his notepad. “In the car in the mall parking lot. Emma’s lying because she doesn’t want anybody to know being watched turns her on.” Her jaw dropped, but she recovered quickly and gave him a sweet smile that didn’t jibe with the “you are so going to get it” look in her eyes. Beth asked the next question. “‘Women, where does your man secretly dream of having sex?’” Keri knew Joe wanted to have sex in the reportedly very haunted Stanley Hotel, from King’s The Shining. Dani claimed Roger wanted to do the deed on a Caribbean beach, but he said that was her fantasy and that his was to have sex in an igloo. No amount of heckling would get him to say why. And when it came to Kevin, even Sean knew he dreamed of getting laid on the pitcher’s mound at Fenway Park. Then, God help him, it was Emma’s turn to show her answer. “‘In a Burger King bathroom.’” The room felt silent until Dani said, “Ew. Really?” “No, not really,” Sean growled. “Really,” Emma said over him. “He knows that’s the only way he can slip me a whopper.” As the room erupted in laughter, Sean knew humor was the only way they’d get through the evening with their secret intact, but he didn’t find that one very funny, himself. It was the final answer that really did him in, though. The question: “If your sex had a motto, what would it be?” Joe and Keri’s was, not surprisingly, Don’t wake the baby Kevin and Beth wrote, Better than chocolate cake, whatever that was supposed to mean. Dani wrote, Gets better with time, like fine wine, and Roger wrote, Like cheese, the older you get, the better it is, which led to a powwow about whether or not to give them a point. They probably would have gotten it if they weren’t tied with Keri and Joe, who took competitive to a cutthroat level. When they all looked at Sean, he groaned and turned his paper around. They’d lost any chance of winning way back, but he was already dreading what the smart-ass he wasn’t really engaged to had written down. “‘She’s the boss.’” The look Emma gave him as she slowly turned the notepad around gave him advance warning she was about to lay down the royal flush in this little game they’d been playing. “Size really doesn’t matter,” she said in what sounded to him like a really loud voice. Before he could say anything—and he had no idea what was going to come out of his mouth, but he had to say something--Cat appeared at the top of the stairs. “I hate to break up the party,” she said, “but it’s getting late, so we’re calling it a night.” Maybe Cat was, but Sean was just getting started.

I lay there, depleted and relieved that whatever used to be in my body was now out. Marlboro Man, on the other hand, was stunned. Patting me affectionately, he stared at our newborn baby girl with a shocked expression he couldn’t have hidden if he’d tried. “Congratulations,” Dr. Oliver had said moments before. “You have a daughter.” You have a daughter. In the previous several months of gestation, I’d been so indoctrinated with the notion that we were having a boy, it hadn’t even occurred to me that things might go the other way. I couldn’t even imagine Marlboro man’s surprise. “Good job, Mama,” he said, leaning down and kissing my forehead. The nurses immediately wrapped our little one in a white blanket and set her on my chest. Plop. There she was. Lying on top of me. Writhing and looking pink and pitiful and about as precious as anything I'd ever seen. Marlboro Man grasped my hand, squeezing it softly. “Wow,” he said, almost in a whisper. He stared and stared. We were totally quiet. We could hardly move. My throat began to tighten as I realized what had just happened. The being that had been growing inside of my abdomen, that had tapped and kicked and pummeled me in the ribs and bladder during those final weeks, that had brought me heartburn and exhaustion and weeks of debilitating nausea, was now lying on my chest, looking around this strange new world in which she found herself. It was the most surreal moment of my life--more surreal than any moment of surprise during my courtship with Marlboro Man, the father of this new human that had just arrived on the scene and changed absolutely everything. She had arms and legs and a nose and a tongue, which she slowly thrust in and out of her tiny mouth in an effort to familiarize herself with the sensation of air. She was a person--alive and moving around in a real world. I realized that tears were rolling down my face. I hadn’t even noticed I was crying.

I peered inside. My room was filled with cartons. Big boxes from floor to ceiling. Wow! “Are all those presents for me?” I asked. Mom laughed. “Presents? All those boxes? Of course not!” She cracked up. I knew it had to be too good to be true. “Well—what’s the surprise, then?” I asked. “Matt,” she began, “I’ve been thinking about what you said the other day. And I decided you were right. Your room is too small for you. So I’ve turned it into a storage closet.

Then he folded his arms and gave her his best confident “I am a dark and mysterious warrior” look. She bowed her head. “You are the powerful spirit. Please forgive me for my attitude earlier. I was surprised, confused. I did not mean offense.” Wait. That had worked? Wow. What next?

A family of mice were surprised by a big cat. Father Mouse jumped and said, “Bow-wow!” The cat ran away. “What was that, Father?” asked Baby Mouse. “Well, son, that’s why it’s important to learn a second language.

Long before I ever saw him coming into Connie Sue’s salon, a friend of mine in high school was always talking about a guy named Jeptha. She was very sweet. She went to the Pentecostal church and dressed very conservatively--hair down to her booty, skirts, little makeup. We had history class together, and she used to let me put mascara on her. “He’s a dream,” she used to say. I could tell she had a crush on this guy, and I’d just roll my eyes and shake my head. I doubt it, I’d say to myself, after the thousandth time she’d talked about Jeptha and called him dreamy again. I was familiar with the name but not the actual guy, and it wasn’t until the glide-by at Connie Sue’s that I came face-to-face with the dream. Whoops! I mean, with Jeptha. I didn’t think a whole lot more about him until I saw him again a couple of weeks later at a music club called Edge of Madness. There was no drinking, just music, and lots of kids hanging out. The Jeptha came up to me during a break in the music and introduced himself. “Hi. I’m Jeptha Robertson. Are you Jessica?” Connie Sue had told him my name and a little bit about me, but I guess he wanted to make sure. “Hi,” I said, and smiled back. “My dad is the Duck Commander,” he offered. Who? I didn’t answer because I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea who or what the Duck Commander was. “You don’t know who the Duck Commander is?” I shook my head no. I’m sure I looked as confused as I felt. Obviously, I am missing something, and I should know who the Duck Commander is. “You don’t know who Phil Robertson is?” No, again. We chatted a little, and I could see he was trying to connect with me. Then he pulled out his best line: “Do you like my plaid pants?” I looked at the familiar logo on his shirt and pants and thought to myself, Wow, you must really like Abercrombie and Fitch. Surprised, I looked down and beheld his brown, green, and white plaid pants. You couldn’t miss them. They definitely stood out in the crowd. “Yeah,” I said, my voice trailing off. I wasn’t quite sure what else to say. Now at least I know who the dream is, I thought. And he is pretty cute.

The women, sans Kerry, closed ranks once again, and from the cool, considering look of Hannah to the enthusiastic and plotting smiles of Grace, Alex, and Delia and now the unbridled glee of bride-to-be Fiona, he wasn’t exactly sure what he might have just gotten himself into. He glanced back at Logan. “Should I be afraid, mate?” “Oh, very, very afraid. Mate.” Then a slow smile spread across Logan’s face, transforming him from stern police chief and protective brother to a far more relaxed and, if Cooper wasn’t mistaken, surprisingly relieved-looking comrade in arms. “You know, I just realized I haven’t been looking at this the right way at all.” Logan looked from Kerry to the group of women and then to Cooper. “Strength in numbers.” Kerry turned to her brother, hands limp at her sides now. “Wow,” she said flatly, turning the word into two drawn-out syllables. “Just…wow.” “Hey, a minute ago you were jumping all over me for interrogating the guy. Which, you know, think about that. And I’m just saying that maybe, at times, it wouldn’t hurt to have another guy on the team.” “You’ve got all kinds of guys on ‘your team,’” she retorted, making air quotes on the last two words. “Every other person here has another half who is on your man team.

Well, all I’m saying is, if you were to, you know, take off again on your next adventure, we’d make sure he had this place covered. You know that, don’t you?” Fiona lifted her hand, palm facing front. “And I’m not saying it has to be Australia, but, you know, you have been parked here for a pretty long time now. I’m surprised you’re not twitchy with the need to get back out there. I know just listening to that accent of Mr. Hot From Down Under would make me a little twitchy. Seriously, Kerry, how did you work next to him for a year and not jump him?” “Wow, I didn’t know you were in such a big hurry to see me out of here,” Kerry replied, ignoring the part about jumping Cooper. It wasn’t like she hadn’t asked herself the same question a dozen times. Or a hundred dozen. “I didn’t say that; I’m just making sure you know we’d support your decision to run off with him, if, you know, that’s what you decide to do.” “Since when is this decision up to me? Seems like you all have it all figured out already.” Then Kerry’s eyes narrowed. “Or do you just want the inside scoop so you can win the pool on when I’ll head out again?” “Pool?” Fiona said overly brightly. “My, my, whatever do you--” “Oh, don’t even bother pretending. I know Barbara’s had one running since I came back for Logan’s wedding.

I, for one, find it difficult to picture adolescent Jesus looking up suddenly one day from a page of Job or Chronicles and exclaiming, “Wow, what an insight! That really does make sense!” Jesus was not “working out” a religious theory. He was taking possession of his own identity.

minutes away from the UPS Worldport hub means that a lot of customers order as late as midnight EST, and are surprised when their orders show up on their doorstep eight hours later. This creates a WOW experience, which our customers remember for a very long time and tell their friends and family about. We receive thousands and thousands of phone calls and e-mails every single day, and we really view each contact as an opportunity to build the Zappos brand into being about the very best customer service and customer experience. Seeing every interaction through a branding lens instead of an expense-minimization lens means we run our call center very differently from most call centers. Most call centers measure their employees’ performance based on what’s known in the industry as “average handle time,” which focuses on how many phone calls each rep can take in a day. This translates into reps worrying

A millipede ran into a centipede on the street. The millipede said in surprise, “Wow, what are the odds of this?!” “Oh,” answered the centipede, “about 10 to 1.

Mom tugs off the lid of the serving dish, and I gasp. A surprised what-kind-of-freakin’-alchemy-is-this? -kind of gasp. Because the food looks, and smells, normal. Tantalizing, even. As a plus, it also resembles actual food—chicken in some kind of sauce. Things I actually recognize as root vegetables.  Mouths drop open in surprised “O’s” all around the table. Except for my mom’s, which presses into an exasperated line. My dad’s in trouble, but dinner’s saved.  “Wow, that smells different,” Ethan blurts. He flushes and tries to recover. “I mean delicious.”  Nana laughs and pats Ethan on the arm. “Nice try, young man.” 

What’s that?” Liv asked as he gave her the flower. She couldn’t tell if it was real or not but it had silky, periwinkle blue petals and a mild, sweet fragrance that reminded her of baby lotion. “Your answer,” Sylvan said. “If the results were negative, you would have received a white flower. If you were carrying a female baby, the flower would have been pink—that’s a very rare result indeed.” “But blue means…” Liv looked up at him, her heart pounding. “A little boy? I’m carrying a boy?” “You are,” Sylvan said gravely. “May I be the first to congratulate you, mate-of-my-kin, and wish you a safe and healthy pregnancy and delivery.” “Oh my God!” Liv was so excited she couldn’t speak. Instead she rushed forward and pulled him down into a hug. Sylvan was stiff at first, clearly surprised by her exuberance. But then he loosened up a little and hugged her back carefully. “Wait ‘til I tell Baird,” she exclaimed. “He’s going to be so surprised!” “He’ll be extremely pleased and so proud there’ll be no living with him.” Sylvan smiled when she finally let him go. “Are you going to tell him at once?” “Yes, him first and then the girls. Oh, Sophie’s going to be so excited to be an aunt!” “I’m excited to be a…what is your term for it?” “An uncle. You’ll be the baby’s uncle.” Liv grinned at him. “Oh, I have so much to do! And no time to do it.” “You have plenty of time,” Sylvan assured her. “According to the results and the size of the flower you received, you’re still in your first quadmester.” “My first what?” Liv frowned. “You mean trimester, right?” “No.” He shook his head. “Carrying a Kindred baby to term takes twelve of your Earth months, not just nine. So you see, Olivia, you have plenty of time to get everything done.” “Wow.” Liv was a little nonplussed. “Uh…a whole year, huh? You guys should really put that in the brochure.” “We don’t hide anything,” Sylvan protested. “You just have to ask about some things if you want to know.” Liv laughed. “All right—I’m so excited right now I don’t even care. Although by my eleventh or twelfth month I may want to shoot myself. Or Baird, for that matter.” Sylvan gave her one of his rare, one-sided smiles. “Go tell him now before you start wanting to shoot.” “I will.

said that’s enough, Kevin,” Mam shouted, coming to stand between us. “I don’t care how surprised or upset you are, don’t you ever speak to your sister—or any woman, for that matter—like that again. You were raised, not dragged up.” “Yeah, and so was she,” he countered defensively. “But apparently only one of us got the memo.” “That’s not fair,” Mam replied, tone thick with emotion. “You don’t understand what your sister is going through.” “No, because I actually happen to possess a brain between my ears,” he agreed, furious. “Unlike this idiot.” “Kevin!” “Jesus, I always knew you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box, but this?” my brother accused, eyes narrowed in challenge. “Getting pregnant while you’re still in school? Off a fucking scumbag like Joey Lynch? Wow, talk about scraping the barrel by mixing your genes with his. That poor fucking kid’s going to come out with a cocaine habit and the IQ of a gummy bear!

She looked up, hoping to see Hiram Caro. She was disappointed. Hiram didn’t walk through the door. Instead, his personal bodyguard stalked in. Joey Roman. CHAPTER 90 JOEY ROMAN closed the office door and locked it. Then he leaned against the door, folded his arms across his chest, and gazed down at Jenny. Roman’s attire distinguished him from the other security personnel. He was dressed in a slim-fit sport coat over a crisp white shirt paired with indigo jeans. Joey didn’t need to wear a security uniform or badge to give off a dangerous vibe. She knew he wanted to intimidate her. Locking her into a room with three men and blocking the door so she couldn’t get out—it was an act of aggression. Jenny was determined to send a message right back: I’m not scared of you. She gave Roman a side-eye before returning her attention to the advertising brochure. Reading aloud, she murmured, “‘Loosest slots and hottest table games in Biloxi.’ Wow. Impressive.” Silence in the room. She counted to ten before she spoke again. “Is Hiram on his way down?” Roman sounded almost friendly when he said, “Mr. Caro’s not available. What do you want? I can pass along the message.” Jenny’s impatience gave her voice a sharp edge. “I don’t want to go through the messenger boy, Joey.” The two young security guys tensed up and exchanged a look of surprise. Jenny noted their reaction. She figured it meant that Joey Roman was rarely disrespected on casino property. She would have to proceed more cautiously. She forced a smile. “Joey, you know I’m a private

Adam Back, the CEO of Blockstream and whose development of Hashcash in the 1990s was cited by Satoshi Nakamoto in the Bitcoin white paper, had this to say about Bitcoin trade-offs in a 2021 interview: There’s something unusual about Bitcoin. So, in 2013 I spent about 4 months of my spare time trying to find any way to appreciably improve Bitcoin, you know, across scalability, decentralization, privacy, fungibility, making it easier for people to mine on small devices… a bunch of metrics that I considered to be metrics of improvement. And so I looked at lots of different changing parameters, changing design, changing network, changing cryptography, and, you know, I came up with lots of different ideas — some of which have been proposed by other people since. But, basically to my surprise, it seemed that almost anything you did that arguably improved it in one way, made it worse in multiple other ways. It made it more complicated, used more bandwidth, made some other aspect of the system objectively worse. And so I came to think about it that Bitcoin kind of exists in a narrow pocket of design space. You know, the design space of all possible designs is an enormous search space, right, and counterintuitively it seems you can’t significantly improve it. And bear in mind I come from a background where I have a PhD in distributed systems, and spent most of my career working on large scale internet systems for startups and big companies and security protocols, and that sort of thing, so I feel like I have a reasonable chance — if anybody does — of incrementally improving something of this nature. And basically I gave it a shot and concluded, ‘Wow there is literally, basically nothing. Literally everything you do makes it worse.’ Which was not what I was expecting.344

So, why were you trying to flirt with that asshole at the boardwalk?” My jaw drops. I’ve got to be hearing things. I— “Wow, there,” Ruby says. “That’s a new form of distraction I haven’t heard before. I like that. I thought you two were a couple by the way you look at each other but—” I panic-stare at her and she snorts, “Never mind, you do you, keep talking.” I stammer. “It…it was…” Jack says, maybe to Ruby or maybe to himself, “Ellie’s not usually like this, for sure.” “How would you know what I’m like?” My cheeks flush, and I barely notice Ruby lining up the needle. People love to label me. What about what I want to label myself? Especially Jack—he’s pretended not to know me for so long. Jack grins. “Well, we’ll have to debate later on that.” “No, we won’t!” There’s no way I’m going to let him ignore me. I’m going to throttle him as soon as— “You’re all done.” Ruby places a mirror in front of me. “What do you think?” Already? I turn my head to look; my skin’s a little pink, but there it is—the star-shaped silver piercing is on my right ear, at the exact spot I’d chosen. I breathe out in surprise, giving it the label I want. “It’s perfect.” Jack smiles smugly, standing up from the stool. “And I was the perfect distraction.” I’ll ignore that.

I went back in and grabbed my running clothes, then changed in the bathroom. I opened the door to the bathroom, stopping when I saw Kaidan's toiletry bag on the sink. I was overcome with curiosity about his cologne or aftershave, because I'd never smelled it on anyone else before. Feeling sneaky, I prodded one finger into the bag and peeked. No cologne bottle. Only a razor, shaving cream, toothbrush, toothpaste, and deodorant. I picked up the deodorant, pulled off the lid, and smelled it. Nope, that wasn't it. The sound of Kaidan's deep chuckle close to the doorway made me scream and drop the deodorant into the sink with a clatter. I smacked one hand to my chest and grabbed the edge of the sink with the other. He laughed out loud now. “Okay, that must have looked really bad.” I spoke to his reflection in the mirror, then fumbled to pick up the deodorant. I put the lid on and dropped it in his bag. “But I was just trying to figure out what cologne you wear.” My face was on fire as Kaidan stepped into the small bathroom and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms over his chest. I stepped away. He seemed entertained by my predicament. “I haven't been wearing any cologne.” “Oh.” I cleared my throat. “Well, I didn't see any, so I thought it might be your deodorant, but that's not it either. Maybe it's your laundry detergent or something. Let's just forget about it.” “What is it you smell, exactly?” His voice took on a husky quality, and it felt like he was taking up a lot of room. I couldn't bring myself to look at him. Something strange was going on here. I stepped back, hitting the tub with my heel as I tried to put the scent into words. “I don't know. It's like citrus and the forest or something...leaves and tree sap. I can't explain it.” His eyes bored into mine while he wore that trademark sexy smirk, arms still crossed. “Citrus?” he asked. “Like lemons?” “Oranges mostly. And a little lime, too.” He nodded and flicked his head to the side to get hair out of his eyes. Then his smile disappeared and his badge throbbed. “What you smell are my pheromones, Anna.” A small, nervous laugh burst from my throat. “Oh, okay, then. Well...” I eyed the small space that was available to pass through the door. I made an awkward move toward it, but he shifted his body and I stepped back again. “People can't usually smell pheromones,” he told me. “You must be using your extra senses without realizing it. I've heard of Neph losing control of their senses with certain emotions. Fear, surprise...lust.” I rubbed my hands up and down my upper arms, wanting nothing more than to veer this conversation out of the danger zone. “Yeah, I do have a hard time reining in the scent sometimes,” I babbled. “It even gets away from me while I sleep now and then. I wake up thinking Patti's making cinnamon rolls and it ends up being from someone else's apartment. Then I'm just stuck with cereal. Anyway...” “Would you like to know your own scent?” he asked me. My heart swelled up big in my chest and squeezed small again. This whole scent thing was way too sensual to be discussed in this small space. Any second now my traitorous body would be emitting some of those pheromones and there'd be red in my aura. “Uh, not really,” I said, keeping my eyes averted. “I think I should probably go.” He made no attempt to move out of the doorway. “You smell like pears with freesia undertones.” “Wow, okay.” I cleared my throat, still refusing eye contact. I had to get out of there. “I think I'll just...” I pointed to the door and began to shuffle past him, doing my best not to brush up against him. He finally took a step back and put his hands up by his sides to show that he wouldn't touch me. I broke out of the confined bathroom and took a deep breath.

Sienna woke up to the sound of panic coming from Paige’s side of the room. “Shit. What the….Why am I? Oh my God.” Paige said, sounding like she was on the verge of tears before running out of the room. Sienna began laughing uncontrollably. It had taken a full week of patiently waiting for this moment and she was glad she was around to witness it. She knew exactly what had just happened and all she needed was a bag of popcorn to make the moment an even more entertaining show. She grabbed her shower caddy and made her way to the showers for a casual stroll. She’d pretend she was in for a shower and catch the show live and in person. Payback really was a bitch. Upon walking into the community showers, the echoing sounds of Paige’s whimpers led Sienna right to her. Sienna walked around with her caddy, with a smile on her face and eventually was within sight of Paige. Her athletically toned body was red from the scorching hot water hitting her body. She scratched like a dog with fleas. “Aw, what’s wrong? Feeling a bit...itchy? Soap and water work miracles. Is it crabs? Maybe you’re allergic to yourself. I mean it wouldn’t surprise me if your own body was trying to get away from you.” Sienna said, holding back the urge to laugh hysterically. “Shut up, Sienna! This isn’t funny.” Paige whimpered, continuing to scratch. “It can’t be that bad.” Sienna smirked. “You know there’s probably a cream for that itch.” “I know you’re totally getting off on watching me naked, Arkansas. You didn’t have to go to these extremes to do it.” Paige said, clearly pretending she was stronger than her itch. “Wow! You’re more delusional than I thought you were. Listen, I'm a nice person and I won't spread any rumors about you and your....Uncontrollable urge to scratch but if you mess with me again, I promise next time I won't be so nice. Oh and by the way I'm not a fan of slumber parties so find somewhere else to hook up with your little girlfriends.” Sienna said, blowing a kiss at Paige while walking away. Sienna walked out of the showers proud of herself and listened one last time as Paige screamed from the combination of anger and itching.

The group at the dining room table all yelled like their favorite person in the world had just walked in, but he gave them a half smile and lifted a hand in the air as if this was normal. Actually, it seemed like everyone was happy to see him, and not just because of his apparent trivia prowess. Just about each person we passed as we went into the living room smiled and shouted in his direction. As if he were their old buddy back from some short of long trip. I wasn't sure what to make of it. I liked him- wow, I actually did like him- but it was somehow surprising that so many other people did. I would've imagined him being too much of an acquired taste for the general population. Kind of an IYKYK type of guy.

shimmery gold one, and then draped it on Zoe’s arm. “Some bling for your sling,” she joked, and we all cracked up. Frida and Jessi tried on some outfits, but I could tell it was bumming out Zoe a little bit because she couldn’t easily try anything on. “Maybe we should get going,” I said to Jessi as I nodded toward the door. Jessi looked up, and her eyes narrowed angrily. Wow, I’d had no idea Jessi was such a serious shopper. “Sorry,” I started, wondering what was up, but then I followed Jessi’s gaze and saw Mirabelle at the front of the store, browsing through a rack of earrings. “Hey, Mirabelle,” Jessi called out, and Mirabelle looked up, surprised to see her. Jessi gestured toward a mirror on the wall. “There’s

room when she heard a noise outside her window. She saw a small unicorn lost and crying. Angie was very worried and flew down to the unicorn. “What is the matter little unicorn?” asked Angie. “Why are you crying? Are you lost?” The small unicorn looked up at the fairy, stopped crying and stared in surprise. “You can fly? Wow! How I wish I had wings? You have such a nice pair of wings!” Angie laughed and said, “Oh my dear unicorn, do you know it is so much hard work to keep the wings clean and protect them from harm? But tell me your name and why were you crying.” The small unicorn said, “My name is Goldie because I am golden in color and my parents love me a lot. They have gone on a holiday and left me behind with my brothers and sisters at my aunt’s house. All of us have been playing in the morning and while playing I discovered a small pink flower. I went in search of more pink flowers but then I realized I was far away from my brothers and my sisters. I started searching for them but couldn’t find them. I was lost! Then I saw your pink castle and was waiting for them but no one has come in search of me.

So this is sweet. Some sort of fruit, right? Not just sugar." She nodded. "Mango and peach." He looked surprised. "No kidding." He tasted it again. "Got it. Now that you tell me, I can taste them. What kind of chilies?" "Mostly fresno. A cherry pepper here, a poblano there. A little habanero." She hadn't gotten enough fresnos, so the truth was she just used everything she had. Fortunately she'd written it down. "Some honey too. Seasonings." "But there's something I can't quite put my finger on." He tasted more than looked at his finger and said, "No pun intended." She smiled. "Curry." "Curry." "Yup." She nodded. "I needed something to segue between the sweet and the savory and I thought of curry." "It's incredible." "Wow, you're actually selling me on my own sauce." She upended the bottle and put a few drops on her own finger. It was just as good as she'd remembered, exactly as he'd said, with the heat that snuck up and away. Suddenly her mind reeled with the possibilities. She could use it as the base for a barbecue sauce and start serving pulled pork on the menu. That, with the beer cheese, Aja's cheese soup, and the biscuits Margo had made, she had a theme developing suddenly.

The file began with the principal muttering what sounded like nonsense. “Stupid hedgehogs!” he yelled. “Stop stealing my flapjacks!” I looked to Zoe, intrigued. “Is this some sort of top secret code?” “No,” Zoe replied. “It’s about the game he’s playing on his phone.” “It’s called Flapjack Frenzy,” Warren explained. “You try to make as many pancakes as possible and these hedgehogs try to steal them. So you have to fight them off by shooting them with maple syrup. . . .” “The rules of the game really aren’t important right now,” Zoe told him. Warren frowned sullenly. On the recording, the principal’s phone rang. He let it ring ten more times while he apparently tried to finish the level of the game, before finally giving in and answering. “This is the principal,” he said curtly. “This had better be important. I’m in the midst of something very serious.” Then he gasped in surprise and asked, “SPYDER? Really? How do you know?” This was followed by a period during which the principal was obviously listening to a lot of information that the person on the other end of the phone line was giving him. For the most part, it seemed he was trying to sound interested, saying things like “Hmmm” and “Fascinating” and “Wow,” although I could also hear the distinct sounds of the game continuing: tinny music punctuated by the occasional squelch of maple syrup and squeal of pixelated hedgehogs. Suddenly, the principal said, “No, I’m not playing a game on my phone! I’m listening to you!” And then the tinny music shut off.

She and Holly had come into the bathroom together and they both opened their mouths in surprise. Casey jumped and then looked at me. My mind went blank. I thought no one ever used this bathroom. That’s what Casey had said. Or maybe today was our unlucky day. Casey and I looked at each other, then we looked at Ronnie and Holly. I had to think quickly on my feet. “You misheard, Ronnie,” I said, “she said we’re like twins. You know, because we look alike.” “That’s not what you said,” Holly said. “Ali’s right,” Casey said. “It’s what I meant. How would we be twins? We have different parents. I mean it is a coincidence that we look alike but that doesn’t mean anything.” Casey was rambling, but it seemed to work. The girls quickly lost interest and turned to the mirrors to fix their hair. They started talking among themselves about the fair on the weekend, while Casey and I slipped out the door. The first morning bell rang as we entered the hallway. “Wow! That was close!” Casey exclaimed. “I know. I really don’t want anyone to know about us being sisters until I tell my parents. I’m not sure how they’d find out from any of the kids at school but I’d feel better if I told them in case they do hear it from someone else.” “I totally get that,” Casey said. “I promise not to say anything to anyone. Let me know if you want me to come with you to talk to them, though. Like I said, I had such a great time with them this weekend. They really are lovely people. And they’re such great cooks!” I smiled. I was so lucky to have them in my life. But I was luckier to have a twin sister and a little brother now as well. I wished we could go home early and I could get this over with. But that wasn’t possible. I’d have to wait.

I no more try to outline the world and lives of the characters in my books than I would attempt to outline my own life. These guys live and breathe. I have had readers tell me they dream about them. I just start a few "fictional" characters going, and then watch how they develop and reveal their own lives. Fully prepared to lose a few of them along the way, move scenes and chapters around, and head off to explore something they themselves find suddenly interesting. I do not keep catalogs of notes on them because that may be confining and force them into cubbyholes they do not want to stay in. There are many layers and twists through each of our lives and personalities, and if this cannot be said of those who live in books, then these book people have not come fully alive. If I am not startled and thrilled every few chapters by a sudden blast of "Wow! I did NOT see THAT coming!", then I do not see how readers could find these stories anywhere near as exciting and full of surprises as they always have. I thrill to going back from the beginning to rewrite everything because someone has just popped in who shakes everything loose. And when I reach the end of first draft, I fool myself if I pretend to know what the story is about, or where it will be taking us. The characters are just getting warmed up. - Edward Fahey

In July 2014, Ted tapped Brian Wright, a senior vice president at Nickelodeon, to lead young adult content deals. (Brian’s first Netflix claim to fame is signing the deal for a show called Stranger Things just a few months into the job.) Brian tells this story about Ted receiving feedback publicly on Brian’s first day at Netflix: In all my past jobs, it was all about who’s in and who’s out of favor. If you gave the boss feedback or disagreed with her in a meeting in front of others, that would be political death. You would find yourself in Siberia. Monday morning, it’s my first day of this brand-new job, and I’m on hyperalert trying to find out what are the politics of the place. At eleven a.m. I attend my first meeting led by Ted (my boss’s boss, who is from my perspective a superstar), with about fifteen people at various levels in the company. Ted was talking about the release of The Blacklist season 2. A guy four levels below him hierarchically stopped him in the middle of his point: “Ted, I think you’ve missed something. You’re misunderstanding the licensing deal. That approach won’t work.” Ted stuck to his guns, but this guy didn’t back down. “It won’t work. You’re mixing up two separate reports, Ted. You’ve got it wrong. We need to meet with Sony directly.” I could not believe that this low-level guy would confront Ted Sarandos himself in front of a group of people. From my past experience, this was equivalent to committing career suicide. I was literally scandalized. My face was completely flushed. I wanted to hide under my chair. When the meeting ended, Ted got up and put his hand on this guy’s shoulder. “Great meeting. Thanks for your input today,” he said with a smile. I practically had to hold my jaw shut, I was so surprised. Later I ran into Ted in the men’s washroom. He asked how my first day was going so I told him, “Wow Ted, I couldn’t believe the way that guy was going at you in the meeting.” Ted looked totally mystified. He said, “Brian, the day you find yourself sitting on your feedback because you’re worried you’ll be unpopular is the day you’ll need to leave Netflix. We hire you for your opinions. Every person in that room is responsible for telling me frankly what they think.

Joe, is that you? Wow! Mary Kay, what a surprise! Do you want to go fuck in the bathroom?

Wow, kitty, you look just like a ninja,” Misa said. “When did that happen?” In response, the catgirl drew her dagger, crouched, and silently approached the lone guard. The other three members of The Mob Squad exchanged bewildered glances. “She’s not going to …?” Riley began. “Oh, no chance in hell, not our big-eyed people-charmer,” Misa said. “I don’t know …” Fox said, “she’s never shied away from combat.” “It’s not the same as–” Riley said, but he stopped abruptly, his eyes widening as the girl reached her target from behind and with a practiced motion slit his throat while covering his mouth with her other hand. “Oh, bloody hell.” Misa covered her own mouth. “She just murdered him in cold blood.” Raystia turned, flashed a mischievous grin at her friends, and then disappeared before their astonished eyes. “That girl is full of surprises,” Fox said. “When she gets back, we’re going to have a long conversation about hiding things from her party.” Riley swallowed hard. “You’re going to have to be the one doing the questioning. After what I’ve seen, I’m just going to stand back, nod, and smile.

But what happened next really surprised me.” “Yeah?” “The master of ceremonies announced the first-place school.” Mimimi took a deep breath. “When they said the word ‘first place,’ Aoi’s mask finally broke, and she started crying.” “…Wow.” That was all I could say. “She didn’t cry when her own team’s name was called for second place, but when the other school’s name was called for first, she did. It was like, this girl only sees victory. It was incredible.