Pain sliced into Gerald’s hand and his sword arm jerked. 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. She addressed him in a tone of puzzlement. A large dog was then set at him by a stable-boy; but, striking the animal with his faithful iron-bar, he speedily sent him yelping back. Nice lady. “Hey John, how’s it going?” “Hey Michelle. I’m sorry to disappoint you. " "I'll go with you," said Blueskin.
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