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Fire in its eyes. This never stays, as I've found - especially considering there are at least ten more of these books to go. This must have cost Gret a fortune - it's the brand new kit, not last season's. I can't hear her footsteps, but I imagine her taking the three or four steps to the towel rack.
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Says she has to hurry or they'll be late for the ballet. Of course it gives you cancer. Gret stares at me.
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We're in the kitchen I haven't been out of it since Mum dragged me home from school early, except to go to the toilet. Gret picks a sticky pink chunk out of her hair, slowly this time, and studies it.
Dad's words echo back to me - "And the timing! As the story currently stands, the characters' behavior is too frustrating for me to enjoy.
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And cut up my comics? This is my favorite part is because I really felt like Grubbs myself, and I could feel his fears and woes inside my heart. I chase her with my bishop. I pass Gret's bedroom and hear her crying pitifully.
Of course he knew. Sometimes she has one before going to bed too. They figured I wouldn't mind. Darren Shan's stories have proved to be memorable, surprising and captivating. I hate when she pulls a face like this.
And I know instantly - Gret grassed me up to Mum! Of course these scenes hold up strong in their tensions. On cue - screams galore. A shocked single scream to start. Like from a tap.
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And - " "There are some things you should never do," Dad interrupts softly. I haven't read the last book yet! Sore stomach - need to rest.
I finally figured out where the chess came into play - interesting stuff. Once again, Grubbs has suffered all this. I remember Gran's funeral. Lots of sharp lines around his mouth and eyes - the sign that he's really angry, even angrier than he was about me smoking.
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I tense with excitement. Do they know something that I don't? I remember his eyes from when I was a kid. Mum knows that too.
"Lord Loss" Shan Darren - RuLit - 1
Finally, he has found someone he can trust… perhaps the only one he can trust. Nobody believes that, so nobody knows what I'm going through. Dad stares at me. They exchange some small talk on the doorstep, but Mum's in a rush and cuts the chat short.
He doesn't talk about me as if these are my final days.
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You never know what the author will pull out of his hat, after all. It includes werewolves, monsters, and those sort of things. Curious and afraid, I slink to the door and eavesdrop as he phones Aunt Kate and clears my stay with her.
I want to be part of this - even though I don't know what 'this' is, even though Mum and Dad did all they could to keep me out of 'this', even though 'this' terrifies me senseless.