As they walked together down the halls and the back staircase, Nicholas studied the ceiling, which was all white with twirly bits like a wedding cake. He had a troubling thought.“You hate fist bumps?” he asked. “But you’ve fist-bumped me and Eugene.”“I don’t mind if it’s you,” said Seiji. “And I don’t mind much if it’s Eugene. But not Chad!”“Okay, not Chad,” Nicholas soothed, and grinned at the back of Seiji’s head as they entered the dining hall.
-Sarah Rees Brennan
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