Hunger (Gone, #2)

by Michael Grant

Not that this girl was beautiful or anything, but she was cute.

Dekka noted the look of shock on Brianna’s usually cocky face.

Then, recovering a little of her usual sass, she added, “Thanks, Mom.”

Alive. She was alive. And had a thing for Jack. But alive.

Then a fire broke out in a house where two five-year-olds shared a place with two nine-year-olds. One of the nine-year-olds had been smoking pot.

Another rock, closer, but still too low. Then Mike raised his rifle to his shoulder and took aim.

Diana did not move. Did not move. No snarky remark. No smart-ass joke.

“Come on, Goose,” Caine said. “You’re doing great.” “Duck,” Duck corrected.