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Love 'Paper Towns'? You'll Be Addicted to Our Gif Version of the Movie

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***Warning: Spoilers Ahead.***

"The way I figure it, everyone gets a miracle. Like, I will probably never be struck by lightning, or win a Nobel Prize, or became the dictator of a small nation in the Pacific Islands, or contract terminal ear cancer, or spontaneously combust. But if you consider all the unlikely things together, at least one of them will probably happen to each of us. I could have see it rain frogs. I could have stepped foot on Mars. I could have been eaten by a whale. I could have been married to the queen of England. My miracle was like this: out of all the houses in all the subdivisions in all of Florida, I ended up living next door to Margo Roth Spiegelman."

"The longest day of my life began tardily."

"Most of my friends were in band, and most of my free time was spent within 20 feet of the band room. But I was not in the band, because I suffer from the kind of tone deafness that is generally associated with actual deafness."

"Through the thickening mass of humanity crowding the hallway, I could see Margo Roth Spiegelman."

"Bro, you should just hit that. Forget about Jase."

"I heard the window open, and Margo's blue eyes were staring back at me."

"I need a car. Also, I need you to drive it, because I have to do 11 things things tonight, and at least five of them involve a getaway man."

"No felonies," I said.
"I swear to God that you will not be asked to commit a felony."

"Tonight, darling, we are going to right a lot of wrongs. And we are going to wrong some rights. The first shall be last; the last shall be first; the meek shall do some earth-inheriting. But before we can radically reshape the world, we need to shop."

Margo's list:

3 whole catfish, wrapped separately
Veet (It's for shaving your legs, only you don't need a razor. It's with all the girly cosmetic stuff.)
Six-pack, Mountain Dew
One dozen tulips
One bottle of water
One can of blue spray paint

"No," and she said. "No what?" And I said, "No don't blow the air horn," except when I got to about the b in blow, she squeezed on it and it let out an excruciatingly loud honk that felt in my head like the auditory equivalent of an aneurysm, and then she said, "I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you. What was that?" And I said, "Stop b-" and then she did it again.

"I heard about it before first period, and then I found them both talking together and I started screaming bloody murder, and Becca ran into the arms of Clint Bauer, and Jase was standing there."

"May I ask where we're going yet?"
"Becca's," she answered.

"I felt bad for him."
"For him? Why?"

A message from Margo Roth Spiegleman: Your friendship with her - it sleeps with the fishes.

"All your little anxieties. It's just so..."

"And so we sat there, she with her nail polish balanced on the dash, and me with a shaky finger on the pulse of myself. It was a good color of nail polish, and Margo had nice fingers, thinner and bonier than the rest of her, which was all curves and soft edges. She had the kind of fingers you want to interlace with your own."

"She'd only taken one stride when the house lit up like a municipal Christmas tree, and a siren started blaring. I briefly contemplated abandoning Margo to her fate, but just kept breathing in through the nose and out through the mouth as she ran toward the house. She heaved the fish through a window, but the sirens were so loud I could barely even hear the glass breaking. And then, just because she's Margo Roth Spiegelman, she took a moment to carefully spray-paint a lovely M on the part of the window that wasn't shattered."

"I noticed my pointer finger was blue. I held it up for Margo to see. She smiled, and held out her own blue finger, and then they touched, and her blue finger was pushing against mine softly and my pulse failed to slow."

"Nope. No. No way. You said no breaking and entering."

"I will acknowledge that over the course of the evening there has been both breaking and entering. There was entering at Becca's house. There was breaking at Jase's house. And there will be entering here. But there has never been simultaneous breaking and entering. Theoretically, the cops could charge us with breaking, and they could charge us with entering, but they could not charge us with breaking and entering. So, I've kept my promise."

"I smiled. She smiled. I believed the smile."

"We were walking away from the car together when Margo reached down for my hand, laced her fingers in mine, and squeezed. I squeezed back and then glanced at her. She nodded her head solemnly, and I nodded back, and then she let go of my hand."

"I. Will. Miss. Hanging. Out. With. You."

"Margo left often enough that there weren't any 'Find Margo' rallies at school or anything, but we all felt her absence."

"She's been known to have a bit of a bread crumb trail; is that right?"
"Yes," her mom said. "The clues. The stupid clues. But you can never follow them anywhere. Trust me."

"It seemed to me that this was not a place you go to live. It was a place you go to die."


"So it turned out that I did spend prom night with Margo, just not quite as I'd dreamed. Instead of busting into prom together, I sat against her rolled-up carpet with her ratty blanket draped over my knees."

"You must really like him," I said, nodding toward Radar, who was holding both beers over his head, joining in the counting, everybody seemed so proud of the fact that they could count.

"Even now he's sort of adorable," she answered.

"I SEE YOU!" Ben shouted, pointing at me with the sword. "I SPY QUENTIN JACOBSEN! YESSS!"

"Ben, calm down."

"Ben, did you glue yourself to the beer sword?"

"I superglued."

"No one can steal it from me!"

"Radar and I carefully carried the unfurled map back to Margo's room. I held it up against the wall while Radar tried to get the tacks into the corners, but three of the four corners had ripped, as had three of the five locations, presumably when the map was taken off the wall."

"I'm going to Agloe, New York, and I have to go right now."

"You'd fall asleep if you tried to drive for that long anyway."

"C'mon, Q. Go go go go go go."

"My girlfriend is also annoyed, because we were scheduled to do something very special in about eight hours."

"Radar's job, which he begins with the calculator on his handheld, is research and calculations. He's alone in the row of seats behind me, with the directions and the minivan's owner's manual spread out next to him. He's figuring out how fast we need to travel in order to make it by noon tomorrow, how many times we'll need to stop in order to keep the car from running out of gas, the locations of BP gas stations on our route and how long each stop will be, and how much time we'll lose in the process of slowing down to exit."

"And Ben? Ben's role is to need to pee."

"I think I can hold it," Ben says. At 3:10 he announces, "Actually, I really need to pee. Really."

The chorus responds, "Hold it." He says, "But I-" And the chorus responds again, "Hold it!"

"It is fun, for now, Ben needing to pee and us needing him to hold it."

"Lacey jumps forward and leans in behind him and starts tickling at his side."

"He is laughing, and complaining that laughing makes him need to pee more."

"He laughs and whines."

"I laugh, too, keeping the speedometer on 72."

Ben says, "And I'm peeing. Then when I finish peeing, I'll get the stuff on my list."

Lacey says, "I sign the receipt when I get out of the bathroom."

"Most importantly shirts," Radar says. "People keep looking at me funny."

"First, it turns out that a large T-shirt in a Georgia gas station is not the same size as a large T-shirt at, say, Old Navy. The gas station shirt is gigantic - more garbage bag than shirt."

"This problem pales in comparison to the other problem, which is that both T-shirts are embossed with huge Confederate flags. Printed over the flag are the words HERITAGE NOT HATE."

"Be a dear and pick me out some camo pants. And maybe a better T-shirt?"

"Ben complains that no one got him any pants."

"I stop talking because I see in the outer reaches of the headlights the thing that will shortly kill me."

"That's her car! Lacey shouts next to me. "Yes yes yes yes yes her car her car!"

"Margo Roth Spiegelman sits in a black leather office chair, hunched over a school desk, writing. Her hair is much shorter - she has choppy bangs above her eyebrows and everything is mussed-up, as if to emphasize the asymmetry - but it is her. She is alive. She has relocated her offices from an abandoned mini mall in Florida to an abandoned barn in New York, and I have found her."

"After we kiss, our foreheads touch as we stare at each other. Yes, I can see her almost perfectly in this cracked darkness."

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