\"If you could go to Junior Prom, forget that, Senior Prom, with anybody in the whole school, who would you go with?\" Michelle asked. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. "There! off with you!" whispered Mrs. 'Mrs. She fixed her brilliant eyes upon him. None saw, though all felt, his presence, and heard the thunder of his voice. This was the worst summer that I ever had in my life, Europe and all, and I can’t tell you how many times I drove by that Violin Camp hoping to catch a look at you, praying that there wasn’t some horny violin guy waiting to ask you out.
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