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“What is the point of showing er

“What do you think it is?”

“I don’t know,” I said, and I was none too deferential I felt bruised by the confrontation I had just witnessed Maybe it was norht I didn’t know enough to judge as in the right, or indeed whether they were both right or both wrong

Messenger let ti from the room and worse, see Kayla break down in tears

She cried for a long ti sobs, the particular rhythm of a person who has suffered so for her dead father, and I knew that I must have cried that same way, for that same reason Perhaps I, too, had lashed out at those around s of unfairness and helplessness

After far too long, Messenger said, “Good and evil are real But the lines are seldom neat”

“Great, Obi-Wan,” I said “And what am I supposed to do with that?”

Messenger either didn’t detect the sarcas He answered the question as though it had been sincere

“The Messenger must understand,” he said

“Wonderful,” I said, suddenly feeling exhausted “So now I understand”

Messenger did not speak—he waited—and now Kayla was typing again Not a Pages docu on Facebook A status update Ithe niceties of privacy, and read it over her shoulder

Oh My God! she typed You will not even believe this But I have a copy of Spazmantha’s so-called e 102

She proceeded to type in an R-rated sex scene between a character nairl named Sammie

It was hastily written, but not so carelessly that it would set off alar audience that so wanted it to be true

It was explicit It was huuised version of a sex scene between Samantha and Mason, the boy fro She had enough talent to include soh talent to just about sound as if she riting soh her style could be stilted and overly dependent on multisyllabic words