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“As they walked together down the halls and the back staircase, Nicholas studied the ceiling, which was all white with twirly bits like a wedding cake. He had a troubling thought. “You hate fist bumps?” he asked. “But you’ve fist-bumped me and Eugene.” “I don’t mind if it’s you,” said Seiji. “And I don’t mind much if it’s Eugene. But not Chad!” “Okay, not Chad,” Nicholas soothed, and grinned at the back of Seiji’s head as they entered the dining hall.” — Sarah Rees Brennan
As they walked together down the halls and the back staircase, Nicholas studied the ceiling, which was all white with twirly bits like a wedding cake. He had a troubling thought.
“You hate fist bumps?” he asked. “But you’ve fist-bumped me and Eugene.”
“I don’t mind if it’s you,” said Seiji. “And I don’t mind much if it’s Eugene. But not Chad!”
“Okay, not Chad,” Nicholas soothed, and grinned at the back of Seiji’s head as they entered the dining hall.