“Whoosh! A thunderous wave hammered against the beach. Vicky watched the wall of water explode into angry white foam and roll back into the boiling sea. Her father was at the water's edge facing her, the ocean behind him. Danny was in front of him. It was the same beach as in Abuelo's picture. The place where they used to laugh. Only now, the ocean was furious. The waves roared and growled hungrily at them.“

This is not an event, but a thought.

“In my mind I screamed, fought, anything not to be like her. Dark closed in even faster. My lungs ached; my limbs tossed around me, deadened; and my body hung suspended while my mind fought every one of those eighty-seven seconds.“

“You can open and close books a million times and they stay the same. They look the same. They say the same words. The charts and pictures are the same colors. Books are not like people. Books are safe.“