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Chapter 2: Class Selection
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... understand me. For example, if she knew the beautiful vines she was watching me water—the ones with blue flowers cascading down my house’s wall—were recreationally hallucinogenic, she might have called the police. So, yeah, she really didn’t understand me, and that was a good thing—until she started walking around my garden.
"Those look familiar," my mom said, examining a plant with purple flowers from across the yard.
Please don’t recognize that.
It was Wolfsbane. She p ...
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