When Sheila was in a bad mood, she berated her new foster daughter for streaks on the windows, dust on the figurines, for crooked bed sheet corners, and floors that had not been waxed properly. Last week. ” He said, his voice tinged with worry. " Some innate sense of balance told her that something was wrong with these tales. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house.
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