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both blond and fair enough to pass for siblings, or perhaps father and daughter.
The shovel was almost as tall as she was. A few days shy of her thirteenth birthday, and even for twelve and eleven twelfths, Sydney Clarke was small.
since the day she’d died.
country-club-meets-Gothic-manor ambience, but
busy schedules—even back before they were best-selling “empowerment gurus”—to produce
Victor couldn’t help but smile. He took an immense pride in paring down his parents’ works, stripping the expansive chapters on empowerment down to simple,
Instead, the teacher had taken the literary destruction as art. He’d practically supplied the explanation, filled in any blanks using terms such as expression, identity, found art, reshaping.
“Vandalizing school property again?” Victor looked up to find Eli standing over him.
“Perhaps … it is … in … our … best interest to … to surrender … to give up … rather than waste … words.”
All Eli had to do was smile. All Victor had to do was lie. Both proved frighteningly effective.
He was precocious, and frighteningly charming, the kind of guy who got away with everything, thanks to good genes and quick wits. He was born for the sports teams and the clubs, but he surprised everyone, especially Victor,
“Mr. Vale, I’ve already turned down a proposal involving intercourse—”
Victor was out. Victor was free. And Victor was coming for Eli—just as he’d promised he would.
Victor cringed. It was a kink in his understanding of Eli, the latter’s reliance on religion. Victor did his best to overlook it, but it was a constant snag in their dialogues. Eli must have sensed he was losing him.
“doesn’t that mean part of you wants to believe in it? I think we want to prove things, in life, more than we want to disprove them. We want to believe.”
“vandalized,” if not outright “ruined.”
“So,” said Victor slowly, “let’s assume EOs do exist. You’re going to figure out how.”
Mitch—Mitchell Turner—was the massive man waiting for them back in the hotel room. Not because he didn’t like graveyards, he told them emphatically.
And then he smiled, which she noticed he seemed to do a lot before he lied, and said, “Of course.”
We are all immortal until proven otherwise?” “Something like that,” said
Everything felt fast after being in a cell for ten years. Everything felt free.
He’d picked up The National Mark, a nationwide paper, from a gas station, flipping absently through, and fate had smiled at him. Or at least, someone had smiled. Smiled straight up from a photo printed to the right of a news article titled:
CIVILIAN HERO SAVES BANK
But Victor didn’t want to run while Eli was busy trying to fly.
