conversations.from: human
conversations.value: What could be a title for a book about Janie, Rochesters, John with the genre: Teen & Young Adult, Literature & Fiction?
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: A title for this book could be 'Unearthly Things'
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the first five paragraphs for this book
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Unearthly Things
  Rain, wind, and darkness filled the air; nevertheless, I dimly discerned a wall before me and a door open in it; through this door I passed with my new guide: she shut and locked it behind her.
  Less than three weeks ago, I'd been sitting on our back porch watching the tide come in. When a car pulled into the driveway, I figured my parents were back early from their "day date." Then the doorbell rang, which was weird; weirder still, when I answered it, there were two serious-looking cops standing there. The older one asked, "Are you Janie Mason?"
  The next time I blinked, two caskets were being lowered into matching dark holes, while a priest talked about lives cut tragically short. Blink: I was in a lawyer's office, my bare legs sticking to a leather chair as he droned on. Your parents appointed the Rochesters to serve as your legal guardians. They live in San Francisco... Blink: I was on a plane, watching Kona International Airport recede in the distance. Blink: at the bottom of the airport escalator, a chauffeur was holding a sign with my name on it.
  I fought the urge to cry as I tucked stray hairs into the hood of my anorak. The rain was coming down in sheets, making it difficult to see more than a few feet past the car. The driver hurried around to retrieve my suitcases from the trunk. Girding myself against the downpour, I climbed out of the backseat.
  The wind drove the rain into me, quickly soaking my clothing. It rained all the time in Hawaii, but those drops were warm, more like a caress. These icy pellets were a different beast entirely. Shivering, I tilted my head back and stared up at the house.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: five more paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: Before I could turn it, the door was thrown open from the other side. I found myself staring at Georgina, who gaped back with an equally shocked expression. Her eyes flitted to Daniel, still clutching my elbow, and her gaze darkened.
  I shook my head, still too unnerved to talk about it. Besides, I must have imagined the girl, right? Just like the lights in the elevator and hallway: all by-products of a hyperactive imagination fueled by lack of sleep.
  I was having a hard time convincing myself, though. The girl I'd seen had looked eerily like Nicholas. And how could my brain have come up with that on its own? Plus, the way the fortune-teller had gone all The Exorcist on me...
  The cold was grounding, the sound of a siren in the distance oddly consoling. This was tangible: the city encircling me, my anxious friends hovering by my side. And judging by the expression on Georgina's face, I had much bigger problems to contend with.
  Sleep eluded me that night for longer than usual. Every time I closed my eyes, the ghostly image of the girl snapped into focus. I'd taken care to lock my door from the inside. Tomorrow, I'd see if Daniel could install a better deadbolt to barricade it against whoever kept messing with my stuff.
conversations.from: human
conversations.value: the last four paragraphs
conversations.from: assistant
conversations.value: San Francisco seemed very far away, even though we'd only been gone a few months. It felt like I'd finally gotten firm ground beneath my feet again. I had a family, albeit an ad hoc one. I had a home. Alma and I were slowly getting to know each other; she was even teaching me Filipino. The one thing I'd learned from all of this was forgiveness: For her, for John, for my parents. And for Daniel.
  But I had a lifetime to see if there was anything there. For the moment, it was enough to enjoy everything I had. When I thought of my parents now, I tried to focus on the happy memories, leaving the anger and bitterness behind me. None of us is perfect, after all.
  We struggle mightily against the challenges life throws at us: the unexpected tragedies, the cruelties we inflict on each other, the pain and suffering. Some of us rise above it; others are swept away by the tide. And the only way to learn how strong we are is by facing those hardships.
  I closed my eyes, feeling the sun on my face, the whisper of a breeze teasing my hair. Sometimes, when I listened carefully, I swore I could hear a faint voice riding the wind, humming a nursery rhyme...