Don't ask any more questions. ” “I suppose,” said Constance, stencilling away at bright pink petals, “it’s our lot. ” Michelle adjusted her heavy pack. She kicked him in the shin, trying to knock him off his feet. That is what terrified her: the consciousness that nothing in her life would be continuous, that she would no sooner form friendships (like the present) than relentless fate would thrust her into a new circle. She decided that she would try to push whatever resolve he had in the car to see where it would lead. Well, my friend found us out, and would give no quarter. The modern parts of the book were inspired by my worldview of high school as pure, unadulterated Hell. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice.
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