The small Diedermayer clan was a captive audience. Jack looked towards the door. For a few minutes he kept them at bay. Lucy felt her heart splinter in her breast. These sweeping dignities were not within the compass of her will; she remembered she liked Ramage, and owed things to him, and she was interested—she was profoundly interested. 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.
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