Without the protection of John’s star power, certain denizens of the school found new reserves of energy and turned their attention to her, especially Kate Pfister, a bleach blonde with a face that was a plain sort of pretty who had once dated John. She was a schizophrenic, got locked up later in some sort of state mental ward. “I look older. Jacques, Jacques!’ His face was white, but his eyes were open, if a trifle glazed. After all, why need one look down.
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