Good thing we weren't here when this happened," Fred added. "We'd be pancakes - DEAD ones!

— Jo Ann Yhard

It wasn't an accident.

— Jo Ann Yhard

Jester?" Grace whispered into her walkie-talkie. "Are you awake?" She waited. A few weeks ago, she and Jester had started chatting on their walkie-talkies late at night when she couldn't sleep. He always answered her call no matter how late it was." I'm here," his voice echoed back. "Trouble sleeping again?"" Yeah."" Another bad dream?"" Uh-huh," she sniffed, unexpected tears flooding her eyes. My dad was calling for me, but I couldn't find him." She couldn't believe she'd said it. She'd never told anyone what she saw in her dreams. But Jester understood. He'd told her before that he had bad dreams too, since his mom had died.

— Jo Ann Yhard

Repression. Her therapist, Dr. Solomon, loved the word. He'd say it slowly, letting it roll off his tongue. Sometimes he'd add a chin stroke for good measure. He always looked pleased when he did this, like he'd discovered the Cara milk secret or something.

— Jo Ann Yhard