“Why didn’t they just use the bridge? That’s what I want to know. I would have just marched my men over that bridge and . . .”
“Owens, you sapskull, you witling, you great booby! No bridge was built for a score or more years,” I exclaimed, in an unconscious echo of Geordie.
There was a long moment of silence.
Mrs. Hettrick cleared her throat. “Perhaps you don’t know our school rules, Lars. But we don’t allow students to use bad words—even unfamiliar ones. I’ll let it go this time, but . . .”
“They sure have weird cuss words in Minneapolis,” Eddie Owens put in, looking smug at my getting in trouble.
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