The boy squirmed, long skinny legs wrapped round each other, rib-cage twisted ninety degrees from his hips in what appeared to be an impossible configuration of limbs. His elbows jutted out abruptly from his sides like some sort of drafting error and (independently aware of their awkwardness) his arms wound themselves round his torso like vines.
Meg RosoffTo hide her relief, Laura stepped forward and embraced her daughter. 'My poor darling. He's not worth weeping over. If he doesn't appreciate a girl like you...' But, even to her own ears, the words sounded quaint. What man ever warranted the tears shed on his behalf?
Meg RosoffBob exploded. 'There is no such thing as a casual conversation with my mother. Every single word will be twisted recognition until before you know it you're playing Russian roulette in a wind tunnel with a psychotic dwarf, having wagered your birthright for a piece of cheese...
Meg RosoffOh, please, Mr. B thinks, not a human. Not another human. He is filled with despair. God's passion for humans always leads to catastrophe, to meteorological upset on an epic scale. What is wrong with the boy that he can't get it up for some nice goddess? Why, oh why, can't he pursue a sensible relationship, one that will not end in disaster?
Meg RosoffIn the beginning, the earth was without form, and void and the darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. And god said, 'Let there be light.' and there was light. Only, it wasn't good light. Bob created fireworks, sparklers and neon tubes that circled the globe like weird tangled rainbows. He dabbled with bugs that blinked and abstract creatures whose heads lit up and cast long overlapping shadows. There were mile-high candles and mountains of fairy lights. For an hour or so, earth was lit by enormous crystal chandeliers. Bob thought his creations were cool. They were cool, but they didn't work
Meg RosoffIn the meantime, Bob was jumping up and down and pronouncing it was all "good good good," so good that he couldn't stop giggling with self-satisfied glee like a demented toddler.
Meg RosoffTag: humor
He would like to be held in the arms of this clear-eyed, clear-voiced girl, who seems to be the only creature among all of his acquaintances who cares for something beside self-glorification and the gratification of her own desires.
Meg RosoffHe could see now that she looked tired; the delicate tissue under her eyes bruised violet with fatigue. He fought an almost irresistible desire to trace the half-circles with his finger.
Meg RosoffTag: love
It says: "Baltic Amber, fifty million years old and full of fire; warm, and enduring like love". Wonderfully romantic, don't you think? Only I don't know how to differntiate thestuff from plain old yellow stones.
Meg RosoffAnd then without any signal or obvious sign of tansformation, the beach was suddenly alight with fiery stones.
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