For as long as Charlie Bartlett can remember, there's been music. His mom always used to play and, when he was four, he'd had his first piano lesson, learning to play chopsticks with his feet swinging. After his dad went to prison, his mom had played less and less and the piano had become Charlie's. His mom used to leave him notes there because ( Read more... )

Leo wouldn't say he was brooding. Mostly because he wasn't really in a bad mood. Just a mood in general.

He'd been on the Island long enough now to not be horribly surprised by the things that happened there, but it still wasn't normal. Whatever that meant. It unnerved him a little; especially when he started to feel comfortable. He didn't ( Read more... )

It was raining. Pouring, actually. Leo was wandering alone, tall trees reaching up into the night sky, sealing him in. His clothes were soaked through, curls flattened against his forehead. He jammed his hands into the damp pockets of his jeans, taking another turn to again try to find his way out of the forest ( Read more... )

It wasn't working. Orpheus was frustrated beyond belief and a temper some would have called Mediterranean was rising in him and his only restraint was his fear of breaking the lyre, his most priced possession ( Read more... )

You knew things were bad, Mark thought, when laundry day was actually exciting. And it was-- it was something to do besides be unobtrusive and film people, which was what he'd been doing with himself for most of the past two and a half months. Talking to people was exhausting, especially when he still carried this embarrassing bruised fragility ( Read more... )

The sun is setting by the time he reaches the shore ( Read more... )

( Cut for spoilers. )