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. "Come along, my sly shaver. And I’ve read, and thought, and guessed, and looked—until MY innocence—it’s smirched. ” “Excuse me? You are Hitler Youth?” Lucy replied, astounded. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. \" Michelle met her at her locker, right on schedule, carrying a backpack so overstuffed it was its own conversation piece. And when she went to sleep, then always Capes became the novel and wonderful guest of her dreams.
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