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By Randy Russell

ISBN-10: 0061986704

ISBN-13: 9780061986703

ISBN-10: 0062084445

ISBN-13: 9780062084446

Until dying Jana Webster and Michael Haynes have been in love. They have been destined to be jointly endlessly. Do yet Jana's future was once fatally unsuitable. And now she's in lifeless tuition, the place Mars Dreamcote lurks behind the study room, along with his beguiling blue eyes, mysterious smile, and irresistibly hot contact. Us Michael and Jana have been incomplete with no one another. there has been no room for Mars in Jana's life—or death—story. Jana was once certain Michael may rush to her facet quickly. half yet issues are not going in response to Jana's plan. So Jana makes a decision to do no matter what it takes to make her desires come true—no subject what ideas she has to wreck.

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It must have been a dare from the others. ” she said out loud. As a practiced dramatist, Jana knew how to project her voice without shouting, without turning her head. The table of boys snickered. Jana studied her list and wrote one more thing to do. 4. Find out why Mars Dreamcote stares at me. There was something different in the way he looked at her. It was like he’d known her before and was waiting for her to remember. Or like he was waiting for her to catch on. Catch on to what? She’d ask him.

He could cry underwater if he needed to and no one would know. Today he didn’t need to. Today, he was remembering the last time he’d seen the new girl. The girl with dark brown hair, a killer smile, and beautiful jade green eyes. He’d seen her on the Planet. He’d seen her in real life. Mars thought it was planned that way sometimes: to have you cross paths with a stranger you would meet in the afterlife. It had to mean something when that happened. Didn’t it? Jana wrote a new list. This one was a rapidly growing number of questions she had for Arva.

Arva giggled. It sounded like car brakes squeaking. Jana looked for her cell phone and noticed her clothes. They were the same clothes that Arva wore: a pleated plaid skirt of dark greens and a white button-down blouse with a man’s collar. Knee socks and black loafers. These weren’t clothes she’d owned before. Ever. They didn’t smell like her clothes. They didn’t smell like her fabric softener or like her perfume—the one Michael had given her for Valentine’s Day. Jana wrinkled her nose. Her new clothes smelled like Ivory soap.

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Dead Rules by Randy Russell

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