Freida McFadden

After all, my mother always said that the only way two people can keep a secret is if one of them is dead.

She’s been my best friend for five years! But now that Maria is around, it’s like I can’t do anything right in her eyes.

How can you get rid of a book? That’s like throwing away knowledge.

Boris and Mr. Petrovich converse for another few minutes while I stand there on the brink of tears. “Nyet!” I hear Mr. Petrovich say.

“What did he say?” I ask.

Boris at least has the decency to look apologetic. “He says his chest hurts.”

“Great.”

“I bet the boys just love you.”

“Not really.” And I can’t help but think of Sexy Surgeon.

“We’re going to live dangerously for a change.”

The phone is sitting on Mr. Sanchez’s night table, the speakerphone filling the room with the music of Taylor Swift, the same song over and over. I am starting to believe that we are never, ever, ever going to get that translator on the phone.

Whenever someone starts a sentence with “no offense but,” it means they’re going to say something really offensive. I hate that phrase. No offense, but if you say that, you’re a jackass.

“Jane, you are my kind of woman.”

it’s Sexy Surgeon. He’s standing at the door to the roof, still looking sexy as all hell in his blue scrubs