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Buddy, my mama’s boyfriend, was waiting for me after school. Waiting in his old rusty blue pickup truck. Almost didn’t see him. Almost walked right by, on account of nobody ever picking me up at school before. "Hey, Gemma . . ." he called, and tooted his horn a bit. Boop . . . boop . . . Like that.
"Hey, Gemma . . ." And I’m looking around, trying to figure out who’s calling my name. Doesn’t sound like no kid from school. So I’m looking around, can’t see him because the sun’s reflecting on his dirty windshield and, yeah, I know
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