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                stripes that Lucy knew by reputation only.
She steeled her nerve and strode over. Milo’s
smile faltered.
“Hey, Fish,” she said.
“Lucy,” he responded coolly.
A girl in a Zorro mask ran over, yelled,
“Assassin!” and threw a water balloon at the tallest athlete’s back, drenching everyone in the vicinity.
“No fair!” yelled the victim. Laughing, both athletes chased after her.
“That game just gets funnier every time they do it,” said Milo, deadpan. He shook water from his sleeve.
Have you forgiven me yet? thought Lucy. “What are you supposed to be?” she said instead. “A politician?”
“Clearly.”
“Which one?”
“Do you know any politicians other than the
current president?” “No,” Lucy admitted.
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