And," Amber said, practically drooling as she ogled him, "it's tradition for new arrivals to help with the pep rally."
Brooklyn quirked her lips in doubt. "Tradition?"
"It's a new tradition," Amber shot back.
"Clearly the deeper meaning of the word has escaped you.

If Cameron kidnaps you, kills you, then buries your lifeless body in a shallow grave in the desert where your remains lay decomposing for several decades until they're accidentally discovered by some guy on a journey to awaken his spirit at the Salinas Pueblo Missions, can I have your iMac?"
I gaped at her. "You've really thought this out.
"I love your iMac."
"I love my iMac too, and you're not getting her."
"But you'll be decomposing.

I was never the girl next door.

I always play the sweet girl next door.

I'm the comedic girl next door and a lot of fun.

I'm the girl next door, not the sex symbol.