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Writer's pictureM. J. Padgett

A Little Twisted

Griffin wasn’t kidding when he said he would meet me right after fourth period to walk me home. How he managed to make it across the building so fast was anyone’s guess, but in the thirty seconds it took me to stuff my textbook and notebook in my backpack, he was there. Cros grumbled and shot a fire-eyed glare at Griffin, who only brushed him off.

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