“I can’t be the only one. There have to be other people out there who see the Mr. Twister mascot for what he is: Hitler. A grinning, cartoon, twisty-cone version of the Führer himself, advertising to the world that this… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share
“I can’t be the only one. There have to be other people out there who see the Mr. Twister mascot for what he is: Hitler. A grinning, cartoon, twisty-cone version of the Führer himself, advertising to the world that this place is secretly Nazi central. There is no other logical reason to put one of those little black smudge mustaches… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share
“Burger.” Soup scrapes a patty off the grate for me and deposits it onto the open bun. “Extra juicy just for you.” “Thanks.” “Eat up. Then you should go take over for Piper before she gets really pissed off and starts swinging her mallet at Reed.” “Oh,” I say, searching for the right words. Soup is her father, after all.… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share
“Mo drives to his house. We both get out and meet around front of the truck’s bug-smeared grille. He hesitates, then hugs me. “You… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
“I could feel myself shrinking. I couldn't move, not even to blink or breathe. Soon I'd be nothing at all.” — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
“You okay?” she asks. “I think so. You?” “Yeah.” The courthouse looks like it’s burning under the morning sun. The flame-orange shimmer of hot… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
“He'd said all the right things today. He'd been exactly who I needed him to be, dug through all the layers to get to… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
“I like the scars because I like the stories. Bravery, stupidity, pain—none of them come free.” — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
“How about I give you a hin instead?" "Sure. I'm sure a hint's all I need anyway." "You think you're pretty smart then?" he… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
“That's to British," I countered. "What is?" "Making sweeping generalizations about Americans because that makes you feel better about having a national inferiority complex… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
“I don’t know a thing about jazz.” “That’s okay.” He pulled me toward the door and opened it. “You know music. Jazz will explain… — Jessica Martinez Copy Share Image
