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I could feel something in my shoe, up by the pinkie toe which was really beginning to smart, but I figured I deserved it for the nasty cancer lie, for screwing up in my classes, for screwing around in public places, for squandering my gifts from God. When I finally got to my room, I took news my shoe off and Erik's roach clip clattered to the floor. "That's just perfect," I said out loud. I slumped onto news my bed news and stared at YOU CAN DO IT until I fell asleep. I woke up about an hour later completely sick of myself. I found all my books and lined them up along the back of my desk like little soldiers. I arranged my pens, pencils, notebooks, and my new graphing calculator in perfect order, crisp and fine. I hung my jacket up. I made my bed. I looked for my running shoes and realized I had no idea where they were. I was staring out the window when the phone rang down the hall. "Alison!" someone yelled. "It's Erik." I just stood there, biting my lip, feeling about six. "I can't see you tonight," I told him when I got to the phone.
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