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Effortless With You Lizzy Charles 5 page

“But it’s worth it, right? I mean, Marissa, we’re talking about Justin here.” I suppress my gag. Marissa looks mad and lonely. If I can eliminate at least one of her emotions, the drive will be much more tolerable.

“You know what? You’re actually right. Justin is worth the wait. I need to focus, set my eyes on the prize, you know?”

“Exactly. Pursue him with all you’ve got.”

“Hell, yes.” Marissa giggles and puts her foot on the accelerator. Crisis averted.

How does Marissa live with her emotions constantly oscillating? Flirtatiousness. Jealousy. Loneliness. Excitement. Keeping ahead of her exhausts me. I can’t let her dwell; it’d be too easy to slip onto her bad side. I don’t want to be the lame friend with a ten o’clock curfew. Will I ever achieve a status she is happy with?

But then I think of Sally and wonder if I even want to.


 

 

CHAPTER NINE

 

 

 

Justin’s white truck sputters up my driveway. His door flies open and I wave him back. No way am I letting him come in. I can’t let him infiltrate my life further. Who picks up people at the front door anyway? Normal people wait in the driveway. Somehow Justin stays on top of the social pyramid when he clearly doesn’t play by the rules. It pisses me off.

“Good morning,” Justin says as I open the passenger door and shove my stuffed bag under the seat. Justin snickers. “I see someone decided to come prepared.”

“Better than not.”

“Like the other day?”

“You could have given me more of a warning of what to expect.”

Justin puts the car in reverse. “Hey, I offered you help. You didn’t want it.”

“But you knew that would happen, didn’t you?”

“I hoped not. I was banking on you listening to Alex.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “But you’re more stubborn than I thought.”

I purse my lips. “I wasn’t stubborn. I was thirsty. You can survive for a month without food but only a few days without water.” He laughs at me. My fingers clench. “I’m serious.”

He waves my comment away. “Well, despite your survival facts, Alex should have stopped you.”

“To his credit, Alex tried. He did.”

Justin shrugs and pulls onto the exit for the Cross-Town Highway.

“We aren’t going back to the yellow house?”

“Nope. We finished it yesterday. Starting a big project today, an association of homes. We’ll be based out there for a month or so.”

“Where is out there?”

“Minnetonka. About a fifty-minute drive.”

Forty-six minutes to go.

“Get comfortable.” Justin turns on the radio to some news station. The news is growing on me and it keeps Justin silent. He’s much more tolerable that way.

I zone out, watching the people in the cars next to us, all rushing. A man passes us on the right talking on his Bluetooth, already working for the day. A woman applies lipstick and sings while driving a red minivan that looks like an opossum, hood slanted like a nose to the ground. Toys litter her backseat. She seems happy to be having the drive alone.

Mom got rid of our minivan when I started on the high school basketball team. She called the van her “Tween Bus.” Filled with middle school girls, lip gloss, magazines, iPods, basketball bags, lotions, and ribbons, it earned its name. The van was old, with bench seats and no CD player, which is exactly why Mom bought it. She couldn’t handle our chatter and music. I guess I can’t blame her for that.



My heart aches. I really miss those girls. I drifted away during freshman year. I didn’t want to have to answer their questions—they were too good at asking them. I stopped answering phone calls and stood them up for our basketball dates. Eventually, the calls stopped coming. Instead of talking on the phone, I sat alone in my room and cried. What did I expect, them to rescue me? No one could rescue me from that situation ... except for Marissa, and she did.

No. I don’t need to feel lost today. What I need is confidence, dignity, and the ability to not fall flat on my face. I scroll through my iPod, skipping Marissa-made playlists and select Mozart. I crank the volume down, the perfect background track. He seems to fit the weather and general vibe of the day.

I peek at Justin, who sits back relaxed, attentively listening to the newscast. I wouldn’t have pinned him as an NPR listener. He hasn’t shaved this morning so his extra-thick stubble highlights his square jaw. My stomach flips in a girly way, and I make myself focus on the windshield. Okay. So what? He's gorgeous but still a jerk. I shift my eyes toward the clock, thirty more minutes, and then close them to rest.

NPR features two doctors and two nutritionists debating the Gluten Disease. I peek at Justin who’s strumming his fingers on the steering wheel, like this is a really great song. The NPR mediator takes a brief break and switches to a commercial. A frail voice cracks through the speakers. “I want to be a football player. Not have leukemia.” Another voice adds, “I was a ballerina … until leukemia.” Soft music begins to play, making my heart ache. Crap. I’m such a softie for these advertisements. I wait it out, listening to the celebrity call for action to help Children’s Leukemia Research. I thumb my phone, feeling guilty. But it’s not like I even have a credit card to give anything with. Heck, if I gave money every time I felt moved, my parents would be broke.

Justin, on the other hand, grabs his phone off the center console and scrolls through his contacts, pushing SEND.

Ha. He hadn’t even noticed the commercial. He’s probably calling Jennifer, arranging a hot date for the night. How insensitive! Not that I was planning to call in, but still.

“Kate, hey!” Justin’s voice is smooth. “Great to hear your voice again too.” He pauses, scratching that fabulous stubble. “Naw. I don’t want to go on air in Phoenix. Just put me down for the usual.”

On air?

The NPR mediator returns, announcing the next segment, a live research conference on Children’s Leukemia Research from Phoenix.

Holy crap.

He’s donating!

“We should definitely catch up. When are you in town again?” He motions for me to open the glove box. He points and smiles at a small black notebook and pen. I hand it back. Seriously? Is he always this prepared?

“A month? Great. I’d love to help. What’s your cell?” He jots her name and number across his pad. “Fantastic. Thanks for the opportunity. You’ve got my number?”

Stupid question. Of course she does. He’s freakin’ Justin Marshall.

“Sounds good. Have a good one,” he says before hanging up.

That short conversation adds a whole new dimension to Justin. He’s a regular donator. But why? How?

He hands the notebook back to me. “Thanks.”

As I place it back in the glove box, a political advertisement for his dad catches on my finger. Ahh, right.

“So? Are you commissioned to donate to research facilities on behalf of your dad’s campaign or something?” The question flies from my mouth before I can stop it. Horrible, rude. But then again, it is Justin. It’s not like he hasn’t ever been blunt with me.

Justin’s green eyes snag my breath with their intensity. “No,” he says. “I donate my own money and time to leukemia research.”

“Are you prepping for your own run for senate soon?” This all makes sense. A future politician. He’s smart, keeping his record clean. Already building a foundation.

“Ah, I see you have me all figured out.”

“Pretty much. It’s not a bad thing to be so transparent though. I’m sure you’ll make a great senator someday.”

“Do I have your vote?”

Ha. “Probably not.”

“I didn’t think so,” he says with a slight smile. “I’ll have to change that, huh?”

“Good luck trying.”

Justin nods as he switches into the right-hand lane, before slowly pulling off to the shoulder of the road and throwing on his hazard lights.

“You better not be giving me a campaign speech or something. I’m locked in here. Totally not fair.”

His green eyes find mine again. “Lucy, what do you know about my family?”

“Why are we on the side of the road?”

“Just answer the question.”

I sigh, debating how much it’s appropriate for me to reveal. From Marissa’s obsession, I already know far too much. “Well, your dad’s running for governor. Your mom runs charities.” He nods along. “Doesn’t your sister have a home design business or something?”

“Sort of. Fashion, actually.”

“Right. You kind of have the perfect family.” It's true. Everyone knows it.

“We all love each other and aren’t afraid to show it.” His words fall gently.

“You’re lucky.” Bitterness bites on my tongue as my stomach clenches. My family dynamics are so far from that.

“Yeah, well, tragedy brings a family together.”

I swallow. “What happened?” My stomach tightens. I can’t believe I asked that.

He nods to the radio. “My older brother, Jackson, died from leukemia when I was four. He was seven. I was his bone-marrow donor. I gave it twice. … It never took.”

My hand flies over my mouth. I’m such an ass. Here he’s been being real, and I’ve been a total jerk. I reach out and touch his arm. “I’m sorry for your loss and that that happened to your family.”

Justin blinks the redness away. “Yeah, well, our family doesn’t really advertise it. We give quietly. It’s not that we aren’t proud or wanting to keep the memory of Jackson alive. It’s just our thing that the media doesn’t need to know about.” He smiles at me, but not his fake smile. It's real, relaxed.

“You must think I’m horrible, assuming you donated for political gain.”

“It’s an interesting insight.” He glances down at my hand still resting on his arm. Oh, right. I pull it back as he says, “You never know what the future may hold. But, preferably, I’ll go into the business of medical research.” He shifts the truck into drive and pulls back onto the highway.

Silence hangs between us. It sucks. This is the first time I’ve ever wanted Justin to speak to me and I’ve given him every reason to close up. I take a deep breath. He’s got to at least know I care.

“I really am sorry about your brother.”

He nods. “Thanks. That means a lot. It’s alright though. I’ll see him again someday.” His confidence surprises me. I don’t know any guy who talks about faith so frankly. “In the meantime, I’ve got my sister and my parents. We’re lucky.” He pulls back onto the highway. “Tell me about your family.”

I freeze, not knowing what to say. My relationship with my parents isn’t like his. He wouldn’t understand it. I mean, how am I supposed to complain about Mom controlling my life when he has such a different perspective?

Justin watches me. “That’s okay. We’ve got the whole summer.”

I shrug.

“So, what’s it like dating Zach?” He asks instead. “I bet you’ve never felt so appreciated.” His sarcasm can’t be missed.

“Seriously, you follow up your story with that?”

“Aw, come on. It’s got to be awesome to listen to him talk about his lacrosse stick constantly.” He snickers at his implication.

“It’s not like that.”

“It’s Zach. I don’t care what you think, kid. But it’s like that.”

I actually huff. Kid? My blood pressure rises. I want to throw my iPod at his face. “Thanks,” I say with as much confidence as I can fake.

“For what?”

“For reminding me why I despise you.”

He chuckles while I reach over to turn on the radio, flipping it to my favorite music station. I turn the volume up and settle back into my seat. I can feel his eyes on me. He chuckles again.

I hate that chuckle.

Justin relents, leaving me to my thoughts and my top-40 music.

Lacrosse stick.

No. Zach isn’t like that. He likes to make out but he never hinted at more than that. My legs grow antsy. Is he hoping for it, though? He's a year older than me. Maybe that's his goal? A hole carves out in my stomach.

Marissa lost her virginity on a beach during spring break in Panama City. She kept saying how fun it was to fool around and that it’s essential to do before seventeen. “A girl needs experience before she finds the one so she can do it right.” I totally agreed at the time. But now that hole has doubled into a huge pit. She’d made it sound so casual and free.

Can I do that with Zach? Immediately I taste bile in the back of my throat. I swallow it.

No. That’s something I can never give him. I'm not ready for it. I couldn’t be that girl even if I tried. I sigh and Justin glances my way. I sink down in my seat.

My face heats. Not even in theory am I ready for sex.

 

***

 

 

The universe is kind to me. My first few days back on the job are uneventful. I manage to stay on my feet and the ladder. Alex welcomes me like an eager younger brother, claiming me as his partner for the entire project at the association.

The association is larger than I’d expected. Seventeen single-family homes with extensive landscaping strategically positioned around a community pool, park, and tennis court. Alex explains that these homes are considered a pioneer in home associations in the Twin Cities. Each home is at least three thousand square feet and, unlike the association where I live, each home’s exterior and floor plan are completely unique.

BMWs, Porsches, and Escalades decorate many of the driveways. Luxury living. I picture myself spilling a bucket of paint in one of the beautifully landscaped gardens below. My lack of gracefulness does not accompany “luxury” well.

Thankfully, we don’t start with paint. Alex scores one of the power washers and some scrapers to restart my education. He meticulously shows me how to power wash and follow up with the scraper, scraping away any loose paint that the wash did not remove. Once I am proclaimed proficient, Alex leads us in a rotation between power washing and scraping so our arms won’t get too tired and we won’t get too bored.

I enjoy power washing. Blasting away old paint is as satisfying as picking off nail polish. I love the loud, constant hum from the air-compressor supply. It leaves me alone with my thoughts and sometimes, when I'm lucky, the sound will take them away as well. Whenever I get tired, I play the William Tell Overture. It may as well be a power-washing anthem. I forgot how much I enjoy classical music. The songs used to be part of my morning pre-game ritual. They relax me like nothing else.

Alex and I prep ten houses in three days. At the end of each day, I climb back into Justin’s truck and pull my hat down over my eyes. Justin, as exhausted as I am, seems to get my message and leaves me to myself on the drive home. He listens to ethereal rock music that’s strangely beautiful and always lulls me to sleep. It seems that as long as I work hard, Justin is willing to leave me alone. After two pleasant drives, I start to hope that maybe Justin is finally done bothering me and we can maintain this casual, professional relationship.

It isn’t until the third night when I finally collapse into bed that I have a nagging feeling of disappointment. I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position. I'm exhausted. Why can’t I fall asleep?

The disappointment answers me. Isn’t the real question why isn’t Justin being annoying anymore?

Justin hadn’t done anything on the drive that morning to bother me, other than occasionally glancing my way. I turn to the window, looking out at the tree I climbed down just two weeks before. Am I not interesting to him anymore? My heart sinks deep into my chest, hiding away.

Why did he stop? I ache with a sense of loss.

I take a deep breath, accepting what my instincts know to be true. Somewhere, deep inside me, I enjoy having this annoying relationship with Justin. Whenever he pisses me off, at least I know I'm noticed. And now Justin is bored with me and I'm left with a hole in place of his attention. Attention I never wanted in the first place.

I close my eyes and visualize this new void inside of me. I don’t need to fill it with something else. I just need it to go away. I watch the void get smaller, a trick Mom explained to me enthusiastically after one of her therapy sessions. I never asked for clarification but I knew that whatever void she was trying to shrink was something I had made.

I curl up into a ball. I take slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, allowing each breath to leave my body with a piece of this void. My heart beat slows as I watch the void disappear.

As I drift in and out of sleep, I think about Justin’s charming smile and rolling laugh. I visualize his strong forearms and washboard abs. He’s gorgeous. I forgive myself for my stupidity. I’m only human after all. Any girl would feel this way if she was stuck spending the summer with Justin. Isn’t that what I want? Just to be like every other girl?

A tear rolls down my cheek.

I catch one last fleeting message from my heart as I drift to sleep.

When exactly did my life goal become being ordinary?

 

***

 

BZZZZZ. I wake up covered in sweat. My head hurts. Talk about fitful sleep.

As my head’s fog drifts away, I remember the ache I felt the night before. I search for the void and am thankful I can’t feel it anymore. My muscles relax. I’m so thankful that morning brought reason. I don’t need Justin to make me feel complete. I take a moment, standing up straight and adjusting my swept bangs.

I don’t need him.

Why would I need him?

Why would I want him?

I pull out my phone and find Zach’s number. I have a great boyfriend.

I thumb the call button as it highlights his name but then catch the time. Six twenty-eight. Somehow, no matter how much I know Zach likes me, I can’t picture him wanting to get a call from me this early.

My phone vibrates.

Justin: Get your butt out here. Or would you rather I come in? What the hell? Twenty-eight minutes early. I text back as I press the puffy part under my eyes with a cold rag.

Me: Learn how to read a clock.

Justin: Either come out or your Mom can drive you.

Never. I can’t face Mom’s smug look when I explain why I missed my ride. Or worse, be stuck in traffic with her. I throw clothes on and brush my teeth in the kitchen as I shove some random protein bars and crackers in my bag. It'll have to do.

I yank open the passenger door with as much annoyance as I can portray. I throw my light bag under the seat and heave myself up into the truck. “If I end up in the hospital today, it’s on you.”

He smirks. “I think you’ll survive.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes and then rolls them in a dramatic fashion. He laughs to himself. My chest heats.

“Why are you so early?”

“Better than late.”

I fake a yawn. “Pretty sure I’d prefer late.”

“Then Zach’s perfect for you, huh?”

I open my mouth to retort but no words come out. My snappy comeback is tangled up in emotions. He is so annoying. But he is bothering me. Why did my heart grow warm when he laughed? And, more importantly, was he going to do it again?

I must have a stumped look on my face because he actually does laugh again. My heart skips a beat.

“What? Nothing to dish out this morning?”

My tongue finally finds words. “No. I’m just wondering if it is worth it.”

Justin turns toward me. “Oh trust me, what you have to say is always worth it.”

I bite the inside of my lip as my heart flips. No. I push the flips aside. I'm not going to allow myself to misinterpret what Justin means.

“I’m sure,” I throw in some sarcasm before putting my head phones on and looking out the window. As each car drives past, I search for reason.

Justin is dating Jennifer, the perfect girl. He has no interest in me. Plus, I have Zach. I think of how Zach would lean in toward me while he spoke. It feels like sunshine when Zach turns his attention on me. I think of him pressing me into the corner booth and kissing me while his strong hands hold the small of my back. My stomach flips and I smile. My heart just needed to be realigned.

I pull out my phone to type Zach an email. Too early to text. “Hey,” I write. “Just thinking of you. We should hang out tonight. Maybe go to a movie? I would have texted but I didn’t want to wake you. Hope you’re sleeping well!”

I fumble with the keys as I consider how to sign the email. Texting is awesome because no signature is required. Email makes it trickier. A dash would seem too impersonal. But love, love you, or even luv u, can be misinterpreted. I settle for the cheesy “<3 Lucy.” Up until this moment I’d always rolled my eyes at the use of <3. But as I type it, I feel a growing appreciation for the cliché symbol.

I push SEND and lean back in my seat. Moments later, my cell buzzes.

Zach: Out running. Let’s grab dinner. I owe you—remember?

Me: Absolutely. That’d be great.

Zach: Awesome. Romano’s. Pick you up at 7.

I smile, thinking of that romantic corner in Romano’s.

“What’s with the silly grin?” Justin’s voice cuts into my thoughts. He is so nosy. I can approach this two ways: either refuse to acknowledge his question or brag about my date. I choose the shallower approach.

“Just planning a date with Zach,” I say.

Justin scrunches up his nose. “Oh, still seeing that guy?

“Um, yes. Not much has changed in the last week.” I mock his cackle.

Justin won’t take his eyes off me, making me shift in place. “Didn’t I tell you not to see that guy? He’s not worth it.”

Like hot water on dry ice, I steam. Why would I listen to him?

I readjust myself in my seat so I can face him square on. If we crash, we crash.

“You can’t tell me who to date. I make my own choices. Zach’s a great guy. I choose him.” I glare at Justin with venom. He needs to back off, now.

His serious expression slowly becomes more relaxed. Hint taken.

“So you go against the advice of a wiser, older man?” He laughs.

My heart flips. That damn noise.

Justin turns back to the road, leaning back in his seat with a huge smile on his face. His smug smile pushes me over the edge.

“You are so full of yourself. Yup,” I taunt. “I said it. FULL OF YOURSELF. You aren’t God!” The adrenaline flies through my system. “What on earth would give me any incentive to listen to you? You are an egotistical, pompous ass!” The words are sweet relief flying off my tongue.

“I am, am I?” He sucks in his cheeks, nodding slowly. “I assume this is not a random conclusion?”

“Hell, no. It’s well studied, I assure you.”

“So you’ve been studying me?” He chuckles and it vexes me despite the beauty of its roll. Maybe being around Justin is good? It’s a great reminder that we are not compatible.

“I won’t dignify that with an answer, as I’m sure your head will explode.”

“So you have?”

“For real? You are seriously clueless. Listen to me. Get over yourself. You’re not royalty.”

Justin studies the glare in my eye and his smile fades.

Good. Comprehension.

He shrugs. “At least I’m not as clueless as you, Lucy.”


 

 

CHAPTER TEN

 

 

 

Justin doesn’t talk to me the rest of the day which is great, because I can’t stand him. But I do find a white plastic bag filled with three water bottles and a breakfast sandwich at the bottom of my ladder before our morning break. His version of apologizing? That or he doesn’t want me to faint again. He also took care of lunch, buying the entire crew pizza. We downed eight pizzas in ten minutes.

As Alex and I power wash, I occasionally sneak glimpses of Justin priming the house behind me. He usually spends the day listening to music, joking around with the crew. Today he paints iPod-free and only once squirted Emmanuel with a hose. He never glances in my direction. He doesn’t even say goodbye when I climb out of his truck at the end of the day.

He's acting like a child. I want to shake him. He deserves every word I said. And now he’s punishing me? I hate how his silence is worse than his taunting.

Mom picks up on my agitation the moment I walk through the door. She stands at the counter, soaking bulbs in some new concoction while mud drips from her gardening boots onto the hardwood floor. Her look of concentration reminds me of a kid enthralled in their first science experiment. It would have been cute, except she is supposed to be a mom.

Sadly, her concentration is not deep enough to miss me as I pass by.

“How was your day, Lucinda?”

I take a deep breath before turning around. A few nights ago, I begged Mom to stop treating me like a child. Her response was “Of course, Lucinda. I will never call you Lucy again.” She knows I hate my full name. By using Lucinda, she picks at the fresh scab. I take another deep breath. I am so not in the mood for this.

I turn around to face her. “Fine.” I force myself to smile at her with all the pleasantries of a stranger. I can’t handle this if it doesn’t go smoothly. “How was yours?”

“Great.” She motions to the table for me to sit with her. I opt to remain standing, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. “What’s wrong?” she prods.

“Nothing’s wrong. Why do you always assume something’s wrong, Mom?” I uncross my arms, attempting to appear casual. In control.

She brings her hands together in front of her center as she breathes in slowly through her nose. Therapeutic breathing. I get lots of this.

“Well,” she begins, “as your mother, I’m in tune. I know what that look in your eye means. What happened?”

My blood seethes. She’s in tune? No way. “Maybe you’re just imagining this look so you have an excuse to talk to me?” I roll my eyes before I grab an apple to toss around. “Nothing’s wrong, okay? And even if there was, I wouldn’t dream of telling you.” My stomach ties in a knot. That was a total bitchy thing to say, but it’s the truth. She has no right to know everything going on in my life.

“Lucinda, now that isn’t fair. I’m your mother. If something is wrong, I need to know.”

“Nothing is wrong. And you don’t need to know my problems,” I snap back, harsher than I intended. I look at the door out of the corner of my eye. My exit isn’t far.

Mom glares back at me before standing up and crossing the room where a vase with pink carnations and white lilies sits on the counter. “Fine.” She forces a smile back at me. “These came for you today.” She pulls the card out and hands it to me. I quickly examine the envelope’s seal. It hasn’t been broken.

“Thanks,” I say slowly, for both handing me the card and, for once, not violating my privacy.

The card is embossed with roses bordering some scratchy, boy handwriting. “Lucy, I can’t wait for our date tonight. I’ll see you at 7. ~ Zach”

See, Zach is a great boyfriend. I wish Justin was here so I can shove the flowers in his face.

“Will you at least share who the flowers are from?” Mom asks as she wipes the mud off her boots and the floor.

I opt for honesty, knowing that a refused answer would only land me in a situation where we would fight over whether I would be going on the date.

“Zach.” I hand her the card. “My boyfriend,” I add for emphasis.

“Oh,” she scans the card. “And where are you going?”

“Romano’s.”

Mom wanders over to her bowl of bulbs and garden potions. “Well, since you have been working at painting and are being accountable for your whereabouts, that should be fine.”

I clench my jaw. I haven’t asked her permission, yet she feels obligated to give it. I don’t need her permission. Thankfully, reason comes to my rescue. She’s giving me permission. I take a deep breath, holding in my real response. If I fight this, I definitely won't be sitting in a secluded corner with Zach and a plate of Chicken Marsala.

This isn’t a battle worth winning. So I simply nod and make my exit.

 

***

 

 

“Hey, Pretty.” Zach smiles at me and my stomach flips over.

“Hey, you.” You? Is that really the best I can do? “Thanks for the flowers.”

“No problem. I think I was due to send you some.” He winks at me. I catch Dad and Eric watching us pull away through the living-room window. Eric waves. I don't wave back.

“So, what did you do today? Pool time with Marissa?” Zach begins.

“I wish. But my painting job totally ruined those summer plans.”

“Right, right. How’s that going?”

“It’s fine. Hard work but I’m learning.”

“I bet. I feel bad for you. Spending the whole summer with Justin. Staying away from him?”

“We barely speak,” I say truthfully.

“That’s my girl.” Zach pulls out his phone. “Sorry. I owe someone a text.”

I watch as he texts while driving. I hate that this makes me so nervous. His eyes never leave his phone yet we are driving sixty-seven miles per hour. Marissa always texts while driving and I'm still not comfortable with it. I clutch the door handle and pray we won’t hit anything or anyone. He explains he was arranging another captain’s practice for this weekend.


Date: 2015-02-16; view: 382


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