Adam Mendoza

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It didn’t happen like a rom-com; he just dumped me out of the car and sped away. I sprinted across the yard, scrambled up the drainpipe, climbed in the bedroom window, and dove under the covers. My parents burst into my room, beyond furious, both of them screaming at me. There were too many words to sort out. A solid wall of outrage.
Paris: A Memoir for Young Women in the Age of Influencers
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