Paper Towns Quentin Novels & Stories

With that Miranda stepped out of the car, carrying her cheap bag then she moved over to Curtis Smith and said, “You should give them a little distraction, they are being too much of a pest. I don't like nosy pests” With that, she stretched out her hand and gave Curtis Smith a few bucks. Then, she strode away. Curtis Smith snorted and said, “Miss Quentin doesn't like nosy pests, and I kill nosy pests. I wish I can suck up your blood from your lean bodies and make you scream to death but I can't do that, I don't have her permission, what a waste!”

Anxious, Quentin grabbed a glass bottle from the kitchen and handed it to me. "Cammy, I promise you—I'll only accompany Rita ninety-nine times. Each time I go, you put one soybean inside. When there are ninety-nine, bring it to me. I swear I'll come home with you." From that day on, the bottle became my most precious thing. But now, the soybeans inside were gone. Quentin stared blankly at the bottle, as if his heart had been hollowed out along with it. When he lifted his head, he noticed a sheet of letter paper on the table in the main hall.

Alisha was completely focused in defeating Kristoff so she did not realize how much time had already passed. The couple was having the time of their life playing in an arcade that they completely forgot the existence of the little bun waiting for them at home. Quentin obediently sat on the couch watching some videos on the television while his eyes would glance from time to time on the wall clock above it. His eyes would sometimes turn towards the door as if waiting for someone to open it. He sat uncomfortably on the couch as he continued to wait for his parents to come home. Quentin who was left alone by his parents:...Where’s Mom and Dad? Aren’t they gonna come home? .........

"Mr. Henderson, we're still investigating, but we've got some leads." Quentin's tone was firm. "I want the person behind this identified by tonight." Jericho responded, "Understood, Mr. Henderson." After hanging up, Quentin lit a cigarette. The wind on the balcony was fierce, whipping from all directions. The wind tore the smoke apart. Then he heard a knock behind him. Quentin turned to see Paige at the door and quickly opened it. When he noticed the smoke drifting toward Paige's face, he stubbed out the cigarette and clutched the butt in his palm.

During the gap while waiting for the takeaway, I took a shower and set up the electric heater in my bedroom. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. "Is the takeaway here?" I quickly went to open the door, but to my surprise, Quentin stood outside with a plain face, his clothes and hat pulled down, looking somewhat... cute? "... Why is it you?" Quentin raised his eyes to look at me, no expression on his face but a clear displeasure in his tone: "Who else did you think it would be?" "Takeout." I looked at Quentin speaking with mist coming out of his mouth, and I realized that he was dressed quite thinly. I hurriedly pulled him in. Afterward, I stuck my head out to see someone approaching not far away an

"What makes you so sure that this woman, Charlotte, is here, Mr. Jones?" Switching to a more comfortable position on the couch and glancing at everyone, Quentin's small smirk surfaced to his face once more. "Let me emphasize once more: we don't have such a luxurious dungeon here, and we can't possibly have such a big bed and recreational facilities. Moreover, the Quinn family has always obeyed the law and didn't shelter that fugitive, Charlotte." He took out a cigar and lit it up elegantly. After one puff, however, he suddenly remembered something and looked at Bonnie. "Ms. Craig, do you mind that I smoke? If you do, I'll put it out."

Quinton handed the papers over to his father, who took them, walked to a large fireplace, and threw the pieces into the fire forever, destroying the items within. “The Andersons will lose face tomorrow and never divulge what they propose to use with the union between Claire and Steve.” Said George looking into the flames as the last papers burned into ash. “But father, after the three years are up, they will return to us again. I don’t believe that Claire will fall for that country bumpkin.” Said Quinton looking at the back of his father.

This dude, sitting there, asking me for the names of the men who helped screw up his life as though he was ready to hunt them down himself. Then he did something that left my jaw hanging a little. He slowly reached into the pocket of his sweatpants and pulled out a small folded piece of paper and a pen. He set the paper on the table and clicked the pen open. I blinked. “Damn, preppy. You’re dead-ass serious.” “No,” Quincy deadpanned. “I brought a pen and paper because I wanted to draw you.” There's the little sarcasm. Ah, my little sunshine. He pushed the paper closer. “Names.”

I said softly, and he nodded, "but he said again to stay with you, specifically, and not let you out of my sight. Is.. something wrong here? I thought he'd trust them." He frowned thoughtfully at that, keeping his voice low too, "I'm not sure, pup," he said uncertainly, "but he must have his reasons, it's always best to listen to him. Wait right here, okay?" I nodded, and he went first, waiting right outside the door as I did second, still seeming unsettled as we walked back together. Jess looked up at us when we came back, "Quentin went down for hot chocolates," she said with a warm smile, starting the movie again.

“No work yet. Just meet them. See the house. Make sure you’re comfortable.” That makes sense. “You’ll resume next week,” she adds. I nod slowly. “Okay.” She hands me a small paper with an address written on it. I look at it. It’s in a part of town I’ve only passed through. Big houses. Quiet streets. “We should go now,” she says. I glance back at Maya. She’s watching. Curious. “I’ll tell her I’ll meet her later,” I say. Amelia nods. A few minutes later, we’re in a cab heading toward the address.