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Chapter 42

Deshawn's figure wavered as he latched onto my arm and led me to the changing room, the fire hot on our tails. His grip on me felt more like a gust of wind rather than a real person and perhaps it was stress that was causing him to lose his form. Regardless, I followed the ghost boy as he rushed us through the changing room. 

Stubbornly, though, I stopped before we could make a quick escape and instead turned to Deshawn's locker. I ripped it open and threw my hands inside, grabbing at whatever I could. My heart was in my throat as I tried to decide what to save. My fingers shook while skimming through the writing and Deshawn threw what was at my hands down to the floor with a guttural growl. 

"We don't have time. Damn you, Reniella," he snapped. 

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