Sam came around the side of the car and stopped dead when he saw me. “Oh my God, what is THAT?” I used my thumb and middle finger to flick the multicolored pom-pom on top of my head. “In my language, we call it a HAT. It keeps my ears warm.” “Oh my God,” Sam said again, and closed the distance between us. He cupped my face in his hands and studied me. “It’s horribly cute.” He kissed me, looked at the hat, and then he kissed me again. I vowed never to lose the pom-pom hat.
Making Ronan Lynch smile felt as charged as making a bargain with Cabeswater. These were not forces to play with.
Adam was beginning to realize that he hadn’t known Ronan at all. Or rather, he had known part of him and assumed it was all of him.
Where the hell is Ronan?” Gansey asked, echoing the words that thousands of humans had uttered since mankind developed speech.
If you can’t be unafraid, Henry said, be afraid and happy.
And here was Ronan, like a heart attack that never stopped.
I’m not asking him to stay, Ronan thought. Only to come back.
Trees in your eyes... Stars in your heart.
Adam lived in an apartment located above the office of St. Agnes Catholic Church, a fortuitous combination that focused most of the objects of Ronan’s worship into one downtown block.
Richard Gansey III had forgotten how many times he had been told he was destined for greatness.
He slouched back in his seat, looking tired, and leaned his face on his shoulder to look at me while he played with my hair. He started to hum a song, and then, after a few bars, he sang it. Quietly, sort of half-sung, half-spoken, incredibly gentle. I didn’t catch all the words, but it was about his summer girl. Me. Maybe his forever girl. His yellow eyes were half-lidded as he sang, and in that golden moment, hanging taut in the middle of an icecovered landscape like a single bubble of summer nectar, I could see how my life could be stretched out in front of me.
Desire and dread lay right next to each other in his heart, each sharpening the other.
I had a weird, empty feeling inside me. Not a bad sort of empty. It was a sort of lack of sensation, like being in pain for a long time and then suddenly realizing that you’re not anymore. It was the feeling of having risked everything to be here with a boy and then realizing that he was exactly what I wanted. Being a picture and then finding I was really a puzzle piece, once I found the piece that was supposed to fit beside me.
It was amazing that she and Ronan didn’t get along better, because they were different brands of the same impossible stuff.
Ronan Lynch – dreamer of dreams, fighter of men, skipper of classes – might.
The choice was death or hurting Adam, which wasn’t much of a choice at all.
What an impossible and miraculous and hideous thing this was. An ugly plan hatched by an ugly boy now dreamt into ugly life. From dream to reality. How appropiate it was that Ronan, left to his own devices, manifested beautiful cars and beautiful birds and tenderhearted brothers, while Adam, when given the power, manifested a filthy string of perverse murders.
He was a king. This was the year he was going to die.
Blue was perfectly aware that it was possible to have a friendship that wasn’t all-encompassing, that wasn’t blinding, deafening, maddening, quickening. It was just that now that she’d had this kind, she didn’t want the other.
I wasn’t talking to you, Lynch. I need someone with a soul.