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Hằng could not catch the last word, sounding like "hót-sì-pi-tồ." Why would they be going to a hospital? Before she could ask, the couple hurries away.
The cowboy gets in and won't look at her. Hằng presses against the closed passenger door and shields herself with her bag. She would never have climbed into this soaring truck on her own. For one, the back is encased with a red roof and black windows. Anything can be hidden inside such darkness.
The truck's leather seat lights her back and bottom on fire, but she can't indulge such a worry right now. At her ankle she unsnaps the sheath of a skinning knife borrowed from her uncle. Staring at the spotless cowboy, she calls forth her best Clint Eastwood unforgiving eyes and razor lips.
Excerpted from Butterfly Yellow by Thanhha Lai. Copyright © 2019 by Thanhha Lai. Excerpted by permission of HarperCollins Children's Books. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Harvard is the storehouse of knowledge because the freshmen bring so much in and the graduates take so little out.
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