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Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

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LostPhoebe: um, not anymore<br />

PrincessCesca: stop lying to me<br />

LostPhoebe: I’m not<br />

PrincessCesca: what’s really going on<br />

PrincessCesca: what aren’t you telling me?<br />

LostPhoebe: Cesca, I<br />

Tears fill my eyes as I tell my best friend since kindergarten—the<br />

girl I’ve shared every deep, dark secret I’ve ever had with—that I<br />

can’t tell her this.<br />

LostPhoebe: I can’t<br />

LostPhoebe: I’m sorry<br />

PrincessCesca: fine<br />

I wait for her to say something more, to ask why or to make me<br />

tell her. But the stupid cursor just blinks at me. After staring at the<br />

unmoving conversation for fifteen minutes I accept the fact that<br />

she’s gone.<br />

Add one more thing to the list of stuff moving to this stupid<br />

island has ruined for me.<br />

“To build a stronger team dynamic,” Coach Z says to everyone gathered<br />

in the weight room, “we are going to partner you across events<br />

for strength training today.”<br />

<strong>Oh</strong> no. This can only end in pain.<br />

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