"I feel like cotton candy: sugar and air. Squeeze me and I’d turn into a small sickly damp wad of weeping pinky-red."

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We're on vacation, Kaia, Strider grumbled. You weren't invited. She waved away his words as if they were unimportant. Deep down I know you meant to invite me, so ta-da. Here I am. You're welcome. It's scary how well you know us. Here, pay for this, William said, dumping his candy into Strider's arms. We'll be in the care. Making out.

— Gena Showalter