E. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. “Want to see the upstairs?” “Sure. ” Lucy said, leading him upstairs behind her. The flight. ‘A little promenade, madame?’ Madame Valade rose from the chintz-covered chair with alacrity and a little rustle of her silken petticoats. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical.
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