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. See paragraph 1. Why shouldn’t we be martyrs? There’s nothing else for most of us, anyhow. 101 He was a delightful teacher. Melusine sighed with relief and set to work by the light of the lantern. Annabel, tell me that you did not wish me dead.
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