Yeah,” Said Iggy. “but What Now? Let’s

You Could Lock The Gasman In A Padded Cell With Some Dental Floss And A Bowl Of Jell-o, And He'd Find A Way To Make Something To Explode.

I Shot Him The Bird. (get It? I Shot Him The—never Mind.)

You Have A Memory Chip That Small Implanted In You,” He Verified. I Nodded, Guessing This Was Somewhat Worse Than Having Cooties.

There Was Something I Needed To Say. “sorry. About Before.” Fang Shot A Sideways Glance At Me, His Eyes Dark And Inscrutable, As Always. He Looked Back Out At The Water. I Didn’t Expect Any More Acknowledgment Than That. Fang Never- “you Almost Gave Me A Heart Attack,” He Said Quietly. “when I Saw You, And All That Blood . . .” He Threw A Small Rock As Hard As He Could Down The Beach. “i’m Sorry.” “don’t Do It Again,” He Said. I Swallowed Hard. “i Won’t.” Something Changed Right Then, But I Didn’t Know What.

When I Write I Pretend I'm Telling A Story To Someone In The Room And I Don't Want Them To Get Up Until I'm Finished.