She could neither speak nor move nor cry out. Unless—’ Something clicked in his mind and he stared at his friend without seeing him. “Of course. America, the land of rosy apples and snowstorms, beckoned, and she wanted to fly thitherward. It’s artificially chance. John sat pensively in the back of his best friend's mother's minivan, piloted by his best friend Mark. ” She looked at him, pleading, miserable in her fancy gown. Then a surge of rage welled up. '—'What is it, Mint?' asked all three.
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