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41. The Wrong Kind of Attention

By the time I got to school, I was already regretting every life decision that had led me here. Wearing a skirt felt like walking through a minefield. Every gust of wind, every creak of movement—it all made me tense like someone about to fight a bear. And don’t even get me started on how the hallways at Prescott High suddenly looked like a jungle full of eyes that didn’t miss a thing.

“Hey, Elena!” a voice sang out, sweet and venomous all at once.

Joey.

She leaned against her ...

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