ALLY CARTER

Teenage girls read in packs. It's true today, and it was true when I was a teen growing up in a small town in northeast Oklahoma.

It was easy to believe, between lessons on Shakespeare and Dickens and Austen, that all of the great stories had already been written by dead Europeans. But every time I saw 'The Outsiders', I knew better. It was the first time I'd realized that real people write books.

Like many authors, I caught the writing bug during my teenage years. I don't remember the exact day or year, but I remember that reading S.E. Hinton's 'The Outsiders' sparked my interest in writing.

At the core, I try to write characters who are real people with real insecurities, fears, hopes, and dreams, which is why hopefully readers can identify with them.

Like so many aspiring writers who still have boxes of things they've written in their parents' houses, I filled notebooks with half-finished poems and stories and first paragraphs of novels that never got written.

rules exist for a reason. Rules exist because when people don't follow them, people get hurt.

Of course. Because at the Gallagher Academy, "precautions" usually equals "voluntary shock therapy.

I've thrown enough punches in my life to know when someone is hurting.

I also packed explosives." -Liz

Oh.' I shot upright. 'I was in Mongolia.' Note to self: learn to be a less extreme liar.

Hey anyone who thinks a non-military–grade rappelling cable can support the weight of two grown men and a miniature donkey deserves to fall off a cliff.

Time. I would have gone somewhere to buy time.

I didn't know there were this many math guys," Hale said as they stepped onto the crowded concourse. Kat cleared her throat. "And women," he added. "Math women.

Cammie: I never knew there were this many stars. Zach: I can't see them. I just see you.

Did you say something Macey?' I asked, but she cut me a look that could kill. She reached into her bag, ripped off a sliver of Evapopaper, and scribbled: 'Can we study tonight? (Tell anyone, and I'll kill you in you sleep!)

I don't want tea, I want justice!

"Cammie!" I'll never forget the tone of Macey's voice in that moment. "Cam," she said slowly, moving toward me, "I know how it feels to be watched every second of every day. I know what it's like to trust fewer and fewer people until it seems like you are completely alone in the world. I know you think the only things that are left in your life are the bad things. I know what you're feeling, Cam." Her hands were on my shoulders. Her blue eyes were staring into mine. "I know."

The Bagshaws? They didn't know she was a nun!

We're seniors." "I know," I said "So aren't you... curious?" "About what?" "About life. Out there. Life!" she said again. "Tell me, Cameron Ann Morgan, what do you want to be when you grow up?" We'd reached another door, and I stopped and looked up at the camera that monitored the entrance, just as I whispered, "Alive.

Kat!” Gabrielle hissed. “You’re going to get caught." The smile Kat flashed over her shoulder was almost wicked. “I know.

Because sometimes not liking someone is easier.

The things that are most precious to us are sometimes the most secret.

to know a piece of grass, you’ve got to see the ground that grew it. Maybe that’s why I remember every detail of that night, every inch of ground we covered, as I followed Zach to the place that had made him, seeing them both with fresh eyes.

So, your dad's hot." "Thanks. He was that way when I met him, so I can't really take credit.

Why don’t I know You?” “Does anyone ever really know someone else?” “You think your cute,” she told him. “You think your gorgeous. But I’m the one guy here who knows better.” “So I’m not gorgeous?” Macey challenged. “Of course you are,” He started away, turned back at the last minute. “But I’m the guy who figured out that’s not all you are." — Double Crossed by Ally Carter