seventy-one

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"Can I have a friend with me?" I ask Ms. Binkman; she decided it was her "duty as a counselor" to come along.

"Let me ask, dearie," she tells me and walks off to a group of policemen. 

I turn my head and look at Mom, who's asleep on the bench, he neck at an awkward angle, her head rested against the wall. I smile softly.

"You may have one friend, Mia. What's the name?"

"Olivia Hoffman," I say without having to think. 

Ms. Binkman smiles. "I'll make a phone-call."

I say my thanks and rest my head on Moms shoulder, slipping out of consciousness. 

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