"I’m in a shallow hole, not filled with the humming orange bubbles of my hallucination but with old, dead leaves."

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That's when it happens. Maybe it was my argument. Maybe it was my scary zeal. Whatever the reason, as soon as Megan whistles, the crowd is on its feet. They're blowing bubbles. They're raising their lighters high. They're cheering through their fangs... For Dawn Summers, for themselves and each other, for every sibling who got tossed into a situation beyond her control. For me. And for my sister, who whistles again... Once more with feeling.

— Cynthia Leitich Smith