She had agonized over it for weeks. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. "Stop!" groaned Blueskin. “I can’t imagine, Miss Pellissier,” Brendon said, leaning towards her, “whatever made you think of coming to stay if only for a week at a Montague Street boarding-house. I did not wish to be hounded by her family and a bunch of other scientific desperados for the rest of the millennia, did you?” “Then come live with me again, it is safer.
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