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"Cancer?" said Mr. Salvatorre. "Brain cancer," I mumbled as tears were streaming down my face and I could above the rim feel snot about to drip from my nose. "I don't know what to do," and he above the rim offered me another tissue. "It must be really hard," he said. I nodded my head. After my meeting with Mr. Salvatorre, I walked straight back to my room, passing right by the cafeteria where I knew Erik was eating lunch. I could feel something in my shoe, up by the pinkie toe which was really beginning to smart, but above the rim 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 my shoe off and Erik's roach clip clattered to the floor. "That's just perfect," I said out loud. I slumped onto my bed 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.
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