La Tonya  Jordan

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Like I was better than her, like I’d crossed an invisible line of knowing something she didn’t, and rubbing her face in it. I waited for her to let me have it. Instead she just stared past me, one single tear on the verge of sliding down her cheek. No lie—this was kind of worse. “Por favor, Liliana. Just go to your room.” “My pleasure,” I mumbled.
Don't Ask Me Where I'm From (A LatinX Coming-of-Age)
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