White Oleander - Janet Fitch [196]
the bench, shaking, she couldn’t stop. Her head on her red schoolbag purse, she fought the urge to vomit again. She hid her face in the furry collar of her coat. Registered as Oscar Wilde. She wanted to wake up like Dorothy and see Michael’s face peering over the side of the bed, laughing. Why, you just hit your head. But it was no dream and there was no Kansas and he was never coming back.
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