Hunger (Gone, #2)

by Michael Grant

“Why don’t you take it easy? Make sure you’re really . . . I was going to say ‘sane,’ but that might be setting the bar kind of high.”

I might look good with just two hairs,” Sam said. He looked at his reflection in the glass front of the microwave. “Does the word ‘narcissist’ mean anything to you?” Astrid asked.

Duck loved the water. But not the ocean. The ocean scared him. He couldn’t get past the idea that a whole world was down there below the waves, invisible to him while he was visible to them.

Man, I miss Google.” He seemed to actually choke up with emotion. The word “Google” caught in his throat.

Haha, Peter

“That’s why they call me the Breeze,” Brianna said, giving him a jaunty wink.

“You know, of course, that a breeze is actually a slow, meandering sort of wind,” Jack said pedantically.

“Are you bats?” he asked. “Because if they were bats, they would totally answer.”

They had leathery wings and big blinking yellow eyes. There were thousands packed close together. They stared at him. That’s when it occurred to him: bats didn’t stay in caves at night, they went out at night and hid during the day. Plus, normally, bats weren’t blue.

“They need parents. So they look to you. And Mother Mary. Me, even, to some extent.” Little Pete chose that moment to begin floating in the air. Just lifted off a foot, eighteen inches, hovered there, his arms floating, toes pointed downward. Sam noticed immediately. Astrid didn’t.

Lana nodded. She didn’t show any sympathy, and strangely Quinn thought that was a good thing because if it wasn’t you, and you hadn’t been there, and you hadn’t been holding a machine gun with your finger frozen on the trigger, and you hadn’t heard your voice coming out of your throat in a scream like an open artery, and you hadn’t seen what he had seen, then you didn’t have a right to be sympathetic because you didn’t understand anything. You didn’t understand anything. Anything.

his own ’puter,

And...this is how you can tell this was written by an older dude. A teenage "tech genius" would never say that haha

His parents had never really talked to him about puberty, about the fact that as his body changed, so did his thoughts. He knew enough to know things were changing for him, but he didn’t know whether or not it was something he could stop. He needed a router. Or he needed to find Brianna and . . . and talk to her. Maybe about the router.

For a boy with the strength of ten grown men, he looked awfully nervous.

“There aren’t going to be lines like that, between freak and normal,” Sam said firmly. Dekka almost, but didn’t quite, laugh. “Sam, that’s a great concept. And maybe you believe it. But I’m black and I’m a lesbian, so let me tell you: From what I know? Personal experience? There are always lines.”

Bug felt like his stomach was trying to kill him. Like it had become this enemy inside him. Like cancer or whatever. It just hurt all the time.

I’m not letting you kill yourself.” Sam forced a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.

MOOD

Of course, nothing would ever come of it. Brianna was probably totally straight. And with lousy taste in guys, in Dekka’s opinion.

Ok relatable af

“Guys, I don’t really . . . ,” Duck said. “Don’t you want to be a hero?” Quinn asked. “No,” Duck said honestly. “Yeah, me neither,” Quinn admitted.

“We need you, Duck. Only you. Only you can do this.” “Dude, I mean, I want to help, but . . .” “You get the next fish I catch,” Quinn said. “Not if I’m buried alive,” Duck argued. “Fried. Fried up so tender and flavorful.” “You can’t buy me with food,” Duck huffed. “I . . . I want a swimming pool, too.”