“Macon Saint was the devil. Anyone with a lick of sense knew it. Unfortunately, when it came to Macon, none of my fellow classmates at Shermont High School seemed to possess the sense that God gave them. No, they'd all fawn over him as though her were a god. I suspected that was the true mark of the devil: turning people into starry-eyed fools when they ought to know better.
Not that I could blame them. Beauty made fools of us all. Macon had the face of an angel--- so beautiful you wondered if it truly had been sculpted by the hand of God, black hair so thick and glossy it might well have had a halo floating over it.”