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Searching for a boy in high school is totally useless
In the tiny room behind the stage, a young girl sat. Her bare legs were tightly crossed; she flicked her free foot nervously. A black pump tottered from her toes. Now and then she flexed her foot and the shoe like an obedient dog snapped to her heel. She would hold it like that for a moment or two before relaxing again, the pump dropping only to sway at the end of her foot. Such an obedient shoe, Mr. Bixly thought. So lucky. To be summoned by her feet. To service her toes. To look up past miles...