Each of us is a miracle. Alas, it is a fact we too often forget. - Bruce Coville

Gadfangled girl things, always robbed me of my common sense.

But, really, why does anyone create? You feel a...a restlessness inside, a need to make something new, something no one has ever seen before. You want to add to the beauty and the richness of the world with a gift, an offering that is uniquely yours. It's an act of selfishness and generosity, all rolled into one.

"Our leading lady saw the theater's ghost last night."
My dad was really cool. Other than raising an eyebrow, he didn't miss a beat.
"How did she take it?" he asked, his voice as calm as if we were discussing a change in Lydia's costume.
"Not too well," said Chris. "She sort of flipped out." She shot me a sideward glance and said, "To tell you the truth, Mr. Tanleven, I don't think she's very mature. When Nine and I saw the ghost, we handled it a lot more calmly than Lydia did."
I would like to be able to tell you that I stayed calm when Chris dropped that particular bombshell. The truth is I nearly spit a mouthful of mashed potatoes across the table. As for my father, he just raised his eyebrow a little higher.
"Is that so? I don't think Nine bothered to mention it to me."
No one said anything for a moment. The only sounds around the table were the ones that came from me trying to swallow the potatoes while I worked out a way to kill Chris without getting caught.