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Don’t cross me


I have about half of this left.

Some high-schooler flicked F5’s hair. F5 is almost in 7th grade. I felt obliged to look out for her. After calling, “Hey, you,” the guy drawled out, “What grade’re you in?” She froze so I lashed out, “6th going on 7th,” with glare. “OK, that’s cool.” F5’s got this great innocent, blue-eyed, flaxen-hair thing going, so I guess they thought they’d pick on her.

C4 thinks that by the time I’m in high school, I’ll be able to part crowds. My older friends have never accomplished that “wide-known-ness.” I am cool because I say so! A4 doesn’t know what he’s talking about! I look cool, not ’cause I act, but ’cause I am.

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