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But he has never been near her—never. 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 know of no one likely to have had a grudge against this man?” he asked. 1 through 1. He pushed her small hand into his jeans. Then it dawned. Vee’s all right. Couldn’t fit it inside, but the horse’s blanket lay over it, and, like I said, as long as no one rides him and don’t remove the blanket, I think it’ll stay hid. Your poor cheeks are quite sunken and hollow. Anna, you shall not go. This is a tale of two young fools. Master, your humble servant.
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