E. The gun flew from his hand, clacking on the floor. “It is no good playing a game. “Which is Mr. Clothes. ‘That’s right. I thought you might like to see. You know nothing of life, nothing of its dangers, nothing of its possibilities. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical.
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