Bellamy waits a minute, then raises her hand. “Oh my God, what?” I laugh and gently smack her hand down. “Explain pity date,” she demands. I look around at the crowded cafeteria. There aren’t any workers near us, just a few people chatting two tables away. “Dr. Dick sort of cornered me the other night when I left West End. Nixon and I were walking home, and he assumed Nix was my boyfriend.” Her eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly touch her hairline. “Why would he assume that?” I shake my head and look around again, frustrated to even be having this conversation. There isn’t a snowball’s
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