“I thought I heard him coming,” Ellington said. “Who?” “Stew Mitchum. He polices these hallways day and night with a cigarette in his mouth and a smirk on his face.” “There’s boys like that at every school.” Ellington gave me a small smile and walked over to the window. “I saw him attack you,” she said, gesturing to the binoculars, “but he didn’t have the strength to drag you inside. He went to get help and I took a chance and snuck out.” “Thank you for rescuing me,” I said, and put the washcloth back on my forehead. I could feel a bump growing there, like a cake rising in the oven, but I
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