“One more chance to get it right, Dot. What’s our magic word?” “Mango!” I tossed the word in his face, flustered. “Wrong answer.” His voice was calm, flat, and resolute. “The word you were looking for was tomato.” “You said it was a fruit!” “Tomato is a fruit.” “How can it be a fruit if you put it in salads? Fruits are fun.” “So is payback,” Row deadpanned. “Enjoy.” He used his free hand to tickle my armpits and neck, feathery fingers skimming all my delicate areas, and my writhing became violent, frantic thrashing. I was the most ticklish person on planet Earth. It was a medical condition. I
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