Gus nodded once, turned, and squeaked his cart down the hall. The crypt keeper had made another house call.
As Emily backed away, she stumbled into a nearby trash can, sending papers and broken pencils scattering across the floor. Mr. Jenkins merely smiled, a cold, calculating smile that made Emily's blood run cold. Gus nodded once, turned, and squeaked his cart down the hall
“Looking good, Gus,” Landon sneered last Thursday, flicking a wad of wet paper towel onto the floor Gus had just polished. “Don’t work too hard. Wouldn’t want you to pull a pension.” “Don’t work too hard
By the time Julian emerged from the basement at midnight, his designer shirt was ruined, his hands were calloused, and his bravado was gone. He didn't look like a prince anymore; he looked like a boy who had seen the dark machinery that kept his world running. his designer shirt was ruined