She had thought—What had she thought? That this dependence of women was but an illusion which needed only to be denied to vanish. 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. In rushed Mr. ‘And I don’t mind telling you it goes agin’ the grain with me to let you go free and all, missie.
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