Wait, Saturday night?" The ladder-backed chair creaked and I looked up as he leaned forward to eye me in growing suspicion. "I thought you stayed home." I shrugged and raised one eyebrow at him. "I thought I was human.
Leave the door open," my dad said, the second most common warning in his arsenal. Right behind, "Nash, go home.
The school sent you flowers. I’m sure that totally makes up for the fact that they hired the psychotic, soul-stealing pedophile who murdered you in your own home.
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