Lucy trudged upstairs behind 258 him and he put his hand on her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry about this evening. 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. No one spoke, and she was impelled to flounder on. "What's the matter?" repeated Mrs. Her usual dignified reserve had availed her nothing.
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