Max Austin

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“Pete,” said Donavan, “gather your books. I want you to sit over there.” He pointed to the last desk in the far row. Where no one sat. “How come?” I said. “Because I told you to.” “Is it because—” “Pete Collison, I’ve asked you to do something.” “Sir, I’m not—” “You may go there, or to the principal’s
Catch You Later, Traitor
by Avi
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