Sitting in the back in Tweety’s classroom during a study period, I struggle to come up with anything more to say for the Call of the Wild essay he wants me to develop into an article. I scratch a few words out on some crap about the meaning of nature’s brutality in a civilized world. Just my luck, it’s the same time period the yearbook meets in here. Meaning Cory will be here. I keep looking up at the door, expecting to see her breeze in with all her new friends. Maybe I should call them her real friends. One line of my essay stares back at me: Nature is brutal because it has to be in order to survive. I cross it out.
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