The Law of Moses (The Law of Moses, #1)

by Amy Harmon

“Moses, Jeeps, seatbelts, home, Moses,” I listed, not even aware I was speaking out loud, and not

caring that I’d repeated Moses twice. He’d earned two spots tonight. “What?” Moses leaned in and lifted my chin, his eyes worried. “Nothing. Habit. When I’m . . . stressed, I list the things I’m grateful for.”

“Everyone always talks about being color blind. And I get that. I do. But maybe instead of being color blind, we should celebrate color, in all its shades. It kind of bugs me that we’re supposed to ignore our differences like we don’t see them, when seeing them doesn’t have to be a negative.”

I felt a little sick. Kids all over the world put up with too much from people who should know better.

They count them off on their fingers.” Georgia grabbed my

hand and ticked the items off on my fingers to demonstrate. “Like, I’m tired. I miss my mom. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to go to school. I’m scared. Whatever. Then they make a fist with the fingers they just used to express their problems. And then they throw the things away, they toss them.”

“Poe said, ‘There is no exquisite beauty without some strangeness in the proportion.’”