Home is where the heart is.

— Carrie Jones

How does that put me in danger?” Nick asks. It’s the first question he’s asked the entire time. Devyn, however, has been Mr. Nonstop Wondering Question Guy.“Because. . .” I don’t know how to say it, struggle for the words. “Because you and I are a thing, and you’re a threat.”“You better believe I’m a threat,” Nick growls. The entire car seems to shake with his energy. Little hairs on my arm lift and vibrate.“He’s going macho again,” Dev says, totally nonchalantly, while he unlocks the door.”He’s always going macho,” Is adds. “It must be the wolf thing.”“I am not going macho. I am always macho,” Nick says, and for a moment the tension ratchets down, but then his face muscles become rigid again.

— Carrie Jones

I just run faster and hit the slowest of the lead boys. I wink and race by him. He smells like onions, and he has big, wet circles in the pits of his shirt. He speeds up, but can only stay with me for a tenth of a mile before he drops back. Then it’s Nick. I cruise next to him. He’s some sort of running god, because he isn’t close to being winded. His stride is long, powerful, and quick.“Hi.” Why I said this, I do not know. He’s cute. Okay. I am a sucker for cute boys, and he was nice to Issue. Plus, he has good hair, and he isn’t as pale as most Maine males. He looks like he works in the sun, or at least has seen the sun once, maybe many weeks ago. Plus, life is all supposed to be about making love, not war. My dad listened to John Lennon; I know this stuff.“You’re fast,” he says, easy. No huffing. No puffing. No blowing the house down.“So are you.” We run together, keeping pace. The only one ahead of us is Ian, who is loping around the track as if it’s nothing. Nick shrugs at me while he runs, which is really something, because when I’m running full tilt it’s hard for me to speak, let alone break form to shrug.“You can go faster, can’t you?” I huff out. He just gives a little smile again and then his eyes shift into something cold, like gravestones with just the barest information about a life etched onto them.“Zara,” he whisper-says. I lean in closer to hear him. “What?” My voice is not a whisper. It matches the thudding beat of my heart, the bass of the music that blares out of the speakers.“Awesome job, new girl!” Devyn yells, clapping.

— Carrie Jones

I meet his eyes. They are deep and almost mesmerizing. Did I say deep before? Yeah, right. That’s not it. They have a pull to them, like currents, like Velcro or something, totally captivating, like when you see a convertible flipped over on the highway and there are body bags, and you don’t want to look, but you look because you can’t look, because you can't look, because you are just riveted and. . . Stop. Just stop.

— Carrie Jones

I push my thigh against his. “Well, thank God.”“Thank God what?” he asks. His hand slowly rubs up and down the place where my shoulder meets my arm. It makes me good shiver.“That I don’t have a neck brace. It’s hard to rock a neck brace, especially if we’re still going to that dance.” He leans in and kisses my nose. “If anyone could do it, you could.” I tilt my head, so our lips meet.“Hormonal ones, I am right here. Me. The old lady otherwise known as your grandmother,” Betty says.“Sorry. He’s just irresistible,” I say, settling back against him.“Well, try to resist the irresistible,” Betty says knowingly as the truck bumps over a pothole.

— Carrie Jones

I sob and clutch my stuffed bunny. Nick leaps up on my bed and squashes his body against mine, nuzzling my face with his muzzle until I lift it enough for him to lick away my tears. While the pixie rages downstairs, I wrap my arms around Nick’s furry body and cry into him. My shoulders quake from the effort of it. He whimpers once or twice and tries to lick my face some more, but mostly he watches the door, and eventually I stop with the pathetic sobbing stuff and just keep crying.

— Carrie Jones

Is that Disney magic of pixie magic?" I kid... "It is life magic".

— Carrie Jones

It is warm within the mansions of HEL.

— Carrie Jones

It's a lot easier to understand things once you name them. It's the unknown that mostly freaks me out. I don't know the name of that fear, but I know I've got it, the fear of the unknown.

— Carrie Jones

It's hard to save the world when you can't save yourself

— Carrie Jones