Marsha > Recent Status Updates

In fact, he had almost felt embarrassed for Christopher Shaw when the boy had named his price for the book. On the other hand, he supposed that made Shaw clever. A reasonable offer was likely to be accepted quickly. And, of course, money had volume. Leland knew from experience that the amount Shaw had requested was the approximate limit of what could be packed into a large briefcase.

I walk home and plod up the stairs and I check my phone; still no response. I hear something from inside my apartment; you're here. I smell pumpkin wafting from my apartment; you've been baking. I hear singing come from my apartment and I smile. You're no Amy Adam. I love you for being off-key. I was wrong to doubt you and I knock twice on the door. There is a response, you cry out for me to wait.

Who am I kidding? I have to get that bikini top. I close my eyes. I pray. My hand is shaking when I reach around to the interior side of the door and pull it off the doorknob. You don't notice and everything is safe again and I really need you to get out of my apartment. I put your bikini behind the frozen Stouffer's things I buy but never eat and then you are out of the shower, out of the bathroom and you call out.

THERE is this girl I fired a couple of years ago. Her name was Sare, which was irritating. Her birth name was Sarah but she wanted to be original. Sare was a nightmare. She acted like she was doing us a favor by showing up. She suggested Meg Wolitzer books to everyone, even old Asian men. When she had to give change, she reluctantly offered a light fist of coins and made the customer reach over the counter to get it.

While Madame Weatherberry was away, Brystal spent the days practicing magic and the evenings reading The Tales of Tidbit Twitch to her classmates. Although the exercises and reading were productive, she mainly used them as a distraction from her troubling thoughts. After eavesdropping on Madame Weatherberry and the witches, Brystal finally had answers to some of the questions haunting her.

"One of my best friends is like you, big time anti-Facebook."
"I'm not real anti."
"You're not on it."
I know that you're talking about Peach and now you think I'm like Peach and nobody likes this Peach so this is a bad thing. I panic. The toddler is silenced by chocolate ice cream and the wind is picking up and it's getting darker by the second, and the skateboards land hard and you want to look at your friend.

"Whenever you saw Miles Lovecraft in a movie," he said, "you'd know it was going to be a dark subject matter, an independent film. It would be my own littler internal protection device so people aren't going to 8mm expecting to see The Rock...Miles would work for scale...He'd have to build his way up the ladder. Nic Cage has been doing it for 20 years. Miles Lovecraft hasn't done anything."

"Well." Phillip gutted the word, unstrung it over twenty seconds. "My guy wouldn't give me a name. He said he didn't want anything on record in case--"
"Could have just told you over the phone," said Faiz.
Phillip tapped the side of a finger to his temple. "Didn't want it to be a 'he said, they said' thing either. He was a stickler for the rules."
"I guess it is cultural," said Faiz, full of knowing.

They had no children. She was bound to inherit everything. Based on the residence alone, Daisy was fairly certain the widow would find herself with the means to live without cares or financial worries. Her life would entail relative comfort and ease.
Perhaps she merely wished to know to whom she owed her liberation.

It feels weird to be in the gym again, especially because I'm wearing a suit instead of being suited up to play. The only thing I can think about is the game I should've played that Moore screwed me out of--the one that would have absolutely launched my path toward playing in college.

Rarely do we see a case that affects so many facets of our community. A hero to many, a dedicated servant to those among us who most need a helping hand, the loss of Principal Kenneth Moore is one that reverberates throughout this city, and we will be tireless in calling for justice.
This case is continuing to develop, and I will be keeping a close eye on how it proceeds.

The Dark Lord Elithor stuttered, stumbled, and fell flat on his face.
"Father!" Clementine exclaimed, rushing into the castle and up the steps. It was lucky he hadn't fallen right off the edge.
Behind her, the boys were staggering to their feet--to seize their chance to run as far away from Castle Brack as they could get.
"Come on," Roderick urged, hauling Little Ian up. "Let's scram!"

The Dark Lord had many enemies--he wouldn't be much of a Dark Lord if he didn't--but few would sink to such cowardly methods as whittling to take him down. And Lord Elithor didn't have any serious rivalries with other lords at the moment, of that Clementine was fairly certain. She knew he'd made a go at manipulating mandrake root prices once, when she was small.

In the chapters that follow, I will try to reconcile the bewildering juxtaposition of two facts: (1) our religious traditions attest in a range of spiritual experiences that are real and significant and entirely worthy of our investigation, both personally and scientifically; (2) many of the beliefs that have grown up around these experiences now threaten to destroy us.

"Bobby!" Bran says, beside me. "You okay?"
I want to scream at him to keep away from me, but my mouth is too busy throbbing to cooperate. I crawl out of the ring and stagger past a blurry image that I assume to be Luke.
"What the hell happened?" the blur says.
The next thing I know, I'm stumbling into the locker room, even though I don't quite remember the walk over.
Bran follows me in. "What the hell was that?"

Her sire lets out a bellow. Crates groan as nails pull free of their moorings, tools rise from the ground, spokes come free from wheels. Their metal turns liquid, streaking like a thousand shooting stars through the air only to collide with each other, forming long, liquid bands. Her sire puts up his hands, but he is helpless as the metal bands wrap around his body. He goes rigid as they harden, trapping him within.

Alec tugs at his curls. "He's a Vestin. He won't change things. He just wants his sister's power for himself."
"He's not like that." Matilde's voice is all heat. "You don't know him."
Alec's almost shouting now. "What, and you do?"
"I know him well enough to be sure he means us no harm," Matilde says. "He will protect us."
"You, maybe." Jacinta's tone is scathing. "But what about the rest of us?"

"There just seem to be a lot of rules," he says. "That doesn't bother you?"
Matilde bristles. "They are there to protect us."
"Rules can also keep you in the dark."
Behind her mask, her cheeks flush. He is clearly trying to rile her, but why?
She makes her tone light. "As scintillating as this discussion is, we have business to attend to."
He puts his elbows on his knees.
"I didn't come here for a kiss."

Marriage is expected of a Nightbird, so she can pass on her gift to anew generation of Great House girls. It's practically demanded. The thought makes something tighten in her chest.
Gran adjusts Matilde's corsage of winglilies, their Houses' floral sigil, and gives her a secretive smile.
"I had adventures in that dress, you know. It has tricked many into thinking the girl beneath was soft and biddable."

She saw it on Twitter. The Emerson youth now had a name. Christopher Mahoun. A senior at the high school. Somebody had posted a photo of him. He was thin, smiling, wide-eyed. He sure didn't look like a killer. In fact, he had such a harmlessly likable face that it took a moment for the hate to come. The initial comments reinforced her confusion. Despite the Middle Eastern name, there didn't seem to be much bigotry.

School had used to be her kingdom. The chair in the dorm foyer was her throne. Nev and Mari were her neighbors. They were her friends, weren't they? Could Lovisa have friends?
"What is your scholarly discipline, Lovisa?" asked Nola.
"Politics and government."
"What a great deal you could do with that," she said, "given everything you know and all you've seen."
"No one can do anything with politics and government."

Lovisa wondered if Minta's guards were involved. Then, thinking of the valuable item her father was keeping protected in the attic room, she wondered if her father trusted his own guards. Maybe Benni was wise to be taking extra precautions. "Well," she said, obscurely excited by the news. Wishing she could tell Katu. "I won't provoke Sara Varana about it at dinner. Unless, of course, you want me to."

(When Salome discovered that Miep had been attacked not once but two or three times, she went to the shed where the men were being kept and attempted to kill them all with a scythe. This was the incident that convinced Peters to call the police and have the men arrested and brought to the city where they would be safe. Salome claims she did ask to be forgiven for that outburst, and that the men forgave her.

I never thought anyone would listen to girls like me, let alone the coppers. I thought they just saw us as slags, because that's what people like Keggy always told me we were. But I also knew that throwing them in jail wouldn't solve the problem completely, or stop other girls being groomed. Keggy, Taz and their mates were just the tip of the iceberg. There were loads more abusers out there.

BITTERBLUE WAS HAVING a dream of a man, a friend. He began as Po, then turned to Giddon, then Saf. When he became Saf, he began to kiss her.
"Will it hurt?" Bitterblue asked.
Then her mother was there between them, saying to her calmly. "It's all right, sweetheart. He doesn't mean to hurt you. Take his hand."
"I don't mind if it hurts," Bitterblue said. "I just want to know."
"I won't let him hurt you," Ashen said.

I think Laura was a bit scared Alesha would be taken into care, because the social workers had been the ones who took me off to the kids' home, so she started to toe the line a bit after that. Soon, she didn't have much energy to go out anyway, because she'd started back at college. She found it tough, balancing sleepless nights with studying, so sometimes Mum would do Alesha's night feeds so she could get some rest.

Giddon sat to her left. The lord to her right, whom she supposed to be the eligible bachelor, was a man not old, but older than Giddon, a small man whose bugged eyes and stretched mouth gave him the appearance of a frog. His name was Davit, and he was a borderlord from the Middluns' northeast corner, at the border of both Nander and Estill.

Camaralzaman and Budoor--here also like Count Walter--have tried to preserve their freedom and their will, have rejected the opposite sex as ugly and disgusting and oppressive--and here in deepest dream they give way to their destiny, which is conducted somewhere between comedy and sentimentality by this bizarre unseen trio.

I didn't know there was a fifth floor, but I sprinted up the stairs like I had been there a thousand times before. On the second to last step, I stopped to catch my breath and wipe the sheen of sweat from my forehead. Othello groomed himself while I tried to fluff out my hair. It was a little matted, so I smoothed the top instead before walking to the only pair of doors. The doors slid open and we stepped inside.

Fire gripped her bow tightly and said, "Taking someone's very mind and changing it is a trespass. A violence. Can I ever use such a thing without overstepping my right? How will I know if I'm going too far? I'm capable of so many horrors."
Brigan took a minute to think. "I understand you. I know what it's like to be capable of horrors. I'm training 25000 soldiers for a bloodbath."