What's up Buttercup?

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I saw the cut scars up her arms when she pushed up her sleeves. She was sitting alone at a table, while I sat with my friends.  I continued to stare at her arms, she glanced at me, and looked down uncertainly. I didn't know her, and she barely knew me. I was just another jock to her, but she wasn't another person to me. I was going to help her.

I was going to help her.


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