John Green Books Paper Towns Novels & Stories

A strange sort of resolve hardened inside John, a kind he hadn’t felt since high school . middle age? . . . and with an amazingly steady hand, he flipped open the black leather-bound book sitting on the writing desk he never used. Names. An entire page of names. A list. He read them off silently. They were men and women’s names (or in some cases, perhaps boys’ and girls’ names) and for the most part unfamiliar. Written in a clear, moderately ornate script. He flipped several pages and saw more. Names and more names, all written by the same hand.

Greta and Gabby made their way to Page Turner’s Bookstore just down the street from the Blue Moon Inn. Once inside the warmth of the large shop, Greta was surprised to see a bright modern shop, which included not only a metaphysical section, but my children’s section, too. With soft upbeat music playing in the background, it didn’t take long to find the shopkeeper chatting away to a rather wild looking dog by a fireplace.

An old man who was passing by asked them, "Hello, young lady. The land here had been repurposed by the government, and the residents who used to live here had already moved. What are you doing here?" Heather narrowed her eyes. "Then where did they move? Have you heard of someone called George Patterson?" "George? If you ask someone else, they probably won't be able to give you a straight answer. But I know George. He's a gambler, and he used to lose thousands of dollars in a night. "I heard that he had squandered all the compensation funds from the government and returned to his hometown." "Then, do you know where his hometown is located?"

JANE I heard the words leave my mouth before I could stop them. "It's only fair to end this with a little bit of crass, is it not?" His eyebrows went up. Interest flickered across his face. I stood, tucking the bills into my purse with deliberate slowness. Five hundred dollars. That was textbooks and maybe even groceries that weren't ramen. My hands weren't shaking anymore. I was Jailbird now. Fully Jailbird. Jane Puckett was locked away somewhere safe.