At night she would turn it in her fingers like a rosary bead. To her horror she realized that she had nearly forgotten how to kiss after a years-long dry spell, and she could detect drool on her own chin and John’s cheek. But out of a belated regard for her father she wrote the surname of some one else. 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. \"Cool. Everything. But he had now lost the precise spot; and thinking he had examined the drain, turned his attention to another quarter. ” She shook her head.
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