I Grew Up Writing About The Paranormal,

He Bent, Lips Coming To Mine And — 'derek? Chloe?' It Was Kit, Opening The Back Door. Derek Let Out A Low Growl. 'never Fails.' I Turned To Kit. 'how Is She?' 'we’re Going To Take Her Back To The House Now. She’s Unconscious Again.' 'then We’ll Walk Back,' Derek Said. 'give You Room In The Van To Lay Her Down.' His Dad Agreed And Went Back Inside. As We Walked Toward The Steps, I Looked Down At Derek’s Hand, Holding Mine. 'no One’s Around,' He Said. 'and We Can Take The Back Way.' 'good,' I Said, And Entwined My Fingers With His.

Perfect Night, Wasn't It?" "it Could Have Been." I Smiled Up At Him. "but You Were There.

Simon: Anyone Ever Tell You Your Sense Of Timing Really Sucks? Derek: That's Why I Don't Play The Drums. Now What's Up?

God, I Loved Him. I Could Insist I Was Okay With Just Being Friends, That I'd Find Someone Else And Get Over Him, But I Was Fooling Myself. There Was No Getting Past This. I Loved Him, And Fifty Years From Now We Could Be Married To Other People, Never Exchanged So Much As A Kiss, And I'd Still Looking Into His Eyes And Know He Was The One. He'd Always Be The One.

I Found Something" Simon Said As He Walked In. He Whipped Out An Old-fashioned Key From His Pocket And Grinned At Me. "it Was Taped To The Back Of My Dresser Drawer. What Do You Think? Buried Treasure? Secret Passageway? Locked Room Where They Keep Crazy Old Aunt Edna?" "it Probaly Unlocks Another Dresser," Tori Said. "one They Threw Out Fifty Years Ago." "its Tragic, Being Born Without An Imagination. Do They Hold Telethons For That?