Barron’s stuck teaching me. It’s supposed to be just for a few months, until I graduate from Wallingford. Let’s see if we can stand each other that long.
Holly BlackFeels almost like real agent work, doesn’t it?” Barron says as we walk down the street, heads bowed against the wind. “You know, if we caught your girlfriend committing a crime, I bet Yulikova would give us a bonus or something for being prize pupils.”
“Except that we’re not going to do that,” I say.
“I thought you wanted us to be good guys.” He grins a too-wide grin. He’s enjoying needling me, and my reacting only makes it worse, but I can’t stop.
“Not if it means hurting her,” I say, my voice as deadly as I can make it. “Never her.”
“Got it. Hurting, bad. But how do you excuse stalking her and her friends, little brother?”
“I’m not excusing it,” I say. “I’m just doing it.
Mine. The language of love is like that, possessive. That should be the first warning that it's not going to encourage anyone's betterment.
Holly BlackStichwörter: love possessiveness
And Barron is probably right—we should give this up. Not for the reason he’s saying but for the one that’s implied. The one about it not being okay to lurk around outside buildings, spying on girls you like.
Holly BlackI think Bob appreciated my outfit. He made me buy the more expensive pendant. You might think that was to my disadvantage, but I accept that status comes with a price.”
“Not usually so immediately.” I shake my head. “You better not be hitting on federal agent ladies. They’ll arrest you.”
His grin widens. “I like handcuffs.”
I groan. “There is something seriously wrong with you.”
“Nothing that a night being worked over by a hot representative of justice couldn’t fix.
Stichwörter: humor
You want me to say something? Okay. Sometimes I think I am what you made me. And sometimes I don’t know who I am at all. And either way I’m not happy.
Holly BlackThe problem with cell phones is that you can’t slam them down into a cradle when you hang up. Your only option is to throw them, and if you do, they just skitter across the floor and crack their case. It’s not satisfying at all.
I close my eyes and bend down to pick up the pieces.
You really dug your own grave,” he mutters. “And I’m going to bury you in it.”
“Say that louder,” I tell him, under my breath. “I dare you.
She looks honestly upset, but then, I’ve learned that I can’t read her. The problem with a really excellent liar is that you have to just assume they’re always lying.
Holly BlackThere’s something about her—Cassel, I have met many evil men and women in my life. I have made deals with them, drank with them. I have done things that I myself have difficulty reconciling—terrible things. But I have never known anyone like your mother. She is a person without limits—or if she has any, she hasn’t found them yet. She never needs to reconcile anything.
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