He’s waiting. Michelle had charitably taken to sitting with Lucy during Lunch Period, where she assumed a station at the outer edges of the Cafeteria, the crowd diffusing in concentric orbits, the middle tables reserved for only the most prestigious castes. Detention would mean coming home late, which spelled distraction and trouble on the night of a kill. “She has one, that’s why. ” “What!” he asked; “not a kiss?” She affected not to hear.
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