November 20
Dear Charlie,
yesterday was strange. Scary, somehow. I don’t really know how to put it.
It was right after our seventh lesson, and I went to the girls in the last row - Luisa and the clique. They don’t call themselves the ‘clique’, but everyone else does. Nadja is no longer in our class anymore, so they’re just three.
Well, I sat down on Lena’s lap, just chatting - she was talking about a book she wanted to read, an autobiography our something, about this singer/actress (I don’t even know) who used to cut herself. Later, during the German lesson, a piece of paper was thrown at me.
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