We stroll to a rectangular, wooden entryway with a nearly broken handle. A roaring voice is faintly perceptible from the contrary side."You prepared?" I question, coming to with delicate fingers towards the handle. He gestures certainly, the specific inverse of my tentative structure. I wonder, briefly, how he figures out how to find this confirmation, realizing that everything will be OK. There is no question in his elements as he trusts that the entryway will open up. Appeal and charm emanate from him as he plans to meet the essences of his new schoolmates."Obviously," he says, his voice smooth and velvety, words streaming like spread from his positive lips. I take a full breath, my eyes restricting somewhat, and I pull back on the handle, presenting us both to the ocean of sharks.I shake as I analyze their cool, making a decision about my eyes, despising the consideration I'm getting. They scour me once, retaining me, then, at that point, promptly turn their look to the flawless
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