” It was, Ann Veronica felt, at once absurd and extraordinarily right. ” “I want a vote,” said Ann Veronica. ” He bit, feeling the numb desire to maul her. See!" she added, tearing the rag from her head,—"I had beautiful black hair once. 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. You dear, dear girl.
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