" While he was thus musing, he fancied he heard the lock tried. "Quilt!—Mendez!—Where are you?" vociferated Wild, sounding his whistle for the third time. It was as though he were personally aggrieved. As if he read her thought, he spoke it aloud. I have a big breakfast. 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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