Judy Blundell quotes:

Cat tongues are awesome." --Nellie Gomez, The 39 Clues, Beyond The Grave

Never regret trusting someone. It proves you have a heart. But if he turns out to be a lying worm ... I'm not going to waste my time crying. Because I am way too fabulous for that.

C'mon, Amy, cinnamon rolls are calling us." Dan put a hand to his ear. "Do you hear? 'Amy? Dan?'" he squeaked. "'Come and get my sugary, sticky goodness!

I drove in last night,' he said. 'I couldn't sleep, it was too hot. So I went outside. I was feeling melancholy. Then I danced with a beautiful girl, and I felt better. What's your story?

I'm so hungry," Amy said sleepily. "Hey, you stole my line," Dan said.

How do you say yoo-hoo in Arabic?" "I believe that yoo-hoo could be part of a universal language," Dan said. "Like ow. Or- you're stepping on my foot." "That's universal?" "No, you're stepping on my foot. Ow." Amy moved.

Hamilton awkwardly folded himself into the passenger seat. "Couldn't you get something bigger?" he asked as he banged his knee against the dashboard. "We're supposed to be a diversion," Jonah said. "Got to make an entrance. Can't do that in a minivan, Giganto Boy. Can't do much in a minivan except look about as uncool as it gets." "Hey! My dad drives a minivan." "Snap.

Faith seems to grab people and not let go, but hope is a double-crosser. It can beat it on you anytime; it's your job to dig in your heels and hang on. Must be nice to have hope in your pocket, like loose change you could jingle through your fingers.

The road climbed into the mountains, Jonah taking the hairpin curves as fast as he dared. "You look so macho clutching the door handle that way," he said to Hamilton. "Just...be...careful," Hamilton said through clenched teeth.

There's something wrong with the brakes." He didn't recognize his shaky, weak voice. He pumped them again. Nothing. "There's something wrong with the BRAKES?" "I don't think we have any." "We don't have any BRAKES?" "Bro, it doesn't help to repeat everything I say!" Jonah yelled.

Amy felt her phone vibrate. She held it up. It was from Ian. DON'T ASK THE PRICE OF ANYTHING. DON'T SMILE. DON'T SAY "DO YOU HAVE ANYTHING CHEAPER?" DON'T Amy shoved the phone back in her pocket. "Just pretend to be Ian," she told Dan.

Wouldn't. Think. About. Ian.

Baby, I was in a war. Of course I get it. That's where all the bad in the world comes from. Guys who like being mean. I was that guy once. We were all that guy, for at least a minute. We had to be.

Truth, justice...I always thought they were absolutes, like God. And Mom. And apple pie. But you could make apple pie from Ritz crackers. You could make cakes without sugar. We learned how to fake things, during the war.

When you lose your parents, the sadness doesn't go away. It just changes. It hits you sideways sometimes instead of head-on. Like now.

If you think something is impossible, it is. Until you decide it's possible and you do it.

Oh, terrific," Dan muttered. "Just what we need. Another code! Why can't people just say what they mean? Why can't they say THE MAP IS IN THE DESK?

Amy sighed. Just when she started to almost like Ian again"?after all, he'd flown across the ocean and had been working around the clock to help"?his snob quotient went through the roof.

I don't have a story, I said. I'm still waiting for one.

I loved him like a fever. Then he left. He kicked through love like it was dust and he kept on walking.

McIntyre hesitated, and for a moment the tall, gray-haired man looked almost boyish. "After all this time...don't you think you could call me William?" Amy and Dan exchanged glances. As fond as they were of him, they couldn't imagine calling their lawyer by his first name. He saw the hesitation on their faces. "Will?" Amy cleared her throat. Dan fiddled with the new GPS. "How about 'Mac'?" "Mac," Dan said, trying out the name. Mr. McIntyre looked wistful. "I always wanted to be a Mac.

Amy bit her lip. "I was so scared, Dan. I couldn't think. She shook her head. "I feel so ashamed of myself. If it wasn't for you, we would have been toast." "Whoa," Dan said. "If you're throwing a pity party for yourself, don't invite me." He poked her. "You were the one who got Jonah to find us. Awesome lung power. I thought you only used that volume to get me out of the bathroom.

I loved all the parts of him, even the ones I didn't understand.

If the body is pampered, the mind is free to concentrate.

I always wanted a father. Any kind. A strict one, a funny one, one who bought me pink dresses, one who wished I was a boy. One who traveled, one who never got up out of his Morris chair. Doctor, lawyer, Indian chief. I wanted shaving cream in the sink and whistling on the stairs. I wanted pants hung by their cuffs from a dresser drawer. I wanted change jingling in a pocket and the sound of ice cracking in a cocktail glass at five thirty. I wanted to hear my mother laugh behind a closed door.

I remember," she said. "Lawrence Malley. He was an expert in security systems." "Aka Lightfinger Larry." Dan grinned. "He was also wanted in five states." "Great," Amy groaned. "I sent you to a tutorial with a crook." "It got us in here, didn't it?" "I guess I'm grateful to him, then," Amy said doubtfully. "Don't be," Dan said. "The first lock I opened was on your diary. Don't worry, I read two pages and fell asleep.

I understood the word 'swoon'. It felt that way, like 'sweep' and 'moon' and 'woo', all those words smashed together in one word that stood for that feeling, right then.

But while I'd be their daughter, while I'd eat the roast and come home from dates and wash the dishes, I would also be myself. I would love my mother, but I'd never want to be her again. I would never be what someone else wanted me to be. I would never laugh at a joke I didn't think was funny. I would never tell another lie. I would be the truth-teller, starting today. That would be tough. But I was tougher.

I knew that the deepest of tragedies was simple: to love, and not to be loved in return.

When a family breaks you don't hear the crack of the breaking. You don't hear a sound.

That's it. Gently now," Reagan said to Nellie. "We'll move onto the hard stuff tomorrow." "This...isn't...the hard stuff?" Nellie spit out through gritted teeth. Reagan grinned. "You really hate me right now, don't you?" "Immeasurably." "Good. Give me ten.

Don't just tell me a mystery; give me a world. Suzanne Myers delivers a hurricane-ravaged island shimmering with atmosphere and dense with secrets. This tight, terrific tale had me turning pages all night long.