"Aha!" exclaimed Jackson. "It's the ordinary's signature, undoubtedly," replied Jack. When the word “FREAK” appeared scratched in the persimmon colored paint on her locker, she knew that in some fragile young woman’s mind a war had escalated from imaginary to physical. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. All make the same answer—'d—n you, keep it. There was one verse that haunted and mocked her. Never had he corrected her with hand or whip, the ring in his voice had always been sufficient to cower her. Don't unman him.
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