Calder Place. I lay back against the trunk of our tree, below the carving of our initials. Wincing at the sharp twinge of pain in my chest. Soon this wouldn’t exist. Adelaide had pledged to destroy it, but in my feverish thoughts I held onto the hope that she would change her mind. From my bag, I pulled a glossy notebook and pen. The spine cracked as I opened it to the first blank page. I’d chosen it for the photo of a mountain on the front. I was looking up a steep rise of wrongs that I had to conquer. My fingers worried the edge of the blank page. The words I wanted to write bubbled to the
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