The Great Gatsby Project Gutenberg Novels & Stories

He’s going to go far. He said he might stop by later so I prepare some extra food and leave it in the oven in case he does stop by and he’s hungry. Once I’m done eating I head into my room with Porsha and sit in my chair, scrolling through I*******m. Porsha jumps into her matching chair and we hang out for a while. I light a couple of candles and get into my bed, plugging my phone in and grabbing my book. I’m currently reading The Great Gatsby, a classic.

Two, on the other hand, might just work. I grinned to myself as I dug out my backpack, and I shoved my books into it in rapid succession. The clear pencil case Kath had given me was still safely cocooned in the front pouch, along with my worn copy of The Great Gatsby. I zipped up the pocket, and chucked the bag onto my bed.

The key fonts were crisp, the glow promising pages I’d only dared to dream of. The largest box held rare first editions of The Great Gatsby, Lolita, 1984—books I’d read in borrowed copies, from uninspiring editions or library dogs and mildew. Now they lay before me, pristine: rich mahogany leather, gold leafing on the spines. My breath caught in my chest; owning even one would’ve been impossible. Now I had three. I traced Gatsby’s title with trembling fingers, it felt like a betrayal or a blessing. Last came the envelope, heavy, thick lines beneath my name. I opened it, life slowing. Ink flowed in clear handwriting:

But I really wasn't ready to go inside and face my fears. “I'll be right back.” “Take your time.” Zeke says, pulling out a thin, paperback book from his pocket. I notice the title and smile when I see that he is reading The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald. “I have my book to keep me occupied.” “It's a pretty good book.” I tell him with a smile. “It must be. This is my fourth time reading it.” He tells me with a grin and I chuckle. He and I are so much alike. I reread my favorite books too; I've read Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte six times.

The kitchen that had survived evidence files and fights and counter sex and a man who still couldn’t cook to save his life but now had both hands to fail with. He was attempting something he called “stir fry,” which was functionally just vegetables cut wrong in a pan that was too hot with a sauce he’d made from ingredients that had no business being in the same bottle. I was at the table with his Gatsby. Not reading it – editing. His margin notes. The observations he’d written during our tutoring sessions that were better than half the published criticism I’d studied in Chen’s class. I’d been transcribing them into a document for weeks – the heavy, slanted handwriting converted into type, or

“You’re brutal. Correct, but brutal.” By 4:00 PM, the gifts had escalated to the absurd. A first edition of The Great Gatsby—because I had once mentioned I liked the tragedy of it. A set of Japanese calligraphy pens—because I liked to doodle on my scripts. A box of pastries from a bakery in Paris—flown in fresh that morning. “Okay, the croissants stay,” Katherine declared, shielding the pastry box with her body. “I have moral boundaries, and wasting French butter crosses them.”

"Sir, rest assured, I'll give you a satisfactory reply!" He looked at Gisella and sighed helplessly. "Miss, I'm sorry!" "Four hundred and twenty million!" Gisella announced proudly, "I'll invest 420 million in the project you mentioned. Can you help me kill Theodore?" Zach smiled helplessly. "Miss, you're hiring a hitman. And Theodore represents the Gatsby Consortium. His 210 million offer is genuine!" Clearly, Zach did not believe she had 420 million. So Gisella said, "My offer is also genuine, and it's in cash!"

she said smiling "alright guys I hope everyone read the first four chapters of The Great Gatsby because the worksheets I'm passing out is one of the last assignments you have before your report card is handed out, so I suggest doing the assignment" Ms. Simmons said "Kyla put that book away, If I see any books or phones you will be sent to the principals office; you should've did the assignment" Kyla rolled her eyes and then put the book back in her bag how hard was it to read four chapters I thought to myself as I started on the worksheet

A box on a form. My eyes move to the bottom of the page. To the handwriting there, small and deliberate, the handwriting of a man who has been making careful notes in the margins of other people's lives for decades. Project initiated. Target acquired. Timeline: align with Lancaster heir's natural mating instincts. The bond will do the rest. G.B. Gideon Blackthorn. The file slips from my hands. I watch it land on the desk without feeling the movement of letting go.