My name is not Edie. It’s E.D., E period, D period.” "What kind of a name is that?” The boy said slouching against the porch railing had scarlet spiked hair, a silver ring through one dark brown eyebrow and too many ear rings to count. He was dressed entirely in black -- black tee shirt, black jeans, black high top running shoes, and the look in his eyes was pure mean. “My kind,” E.D. said
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