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Hey fans! I was reading a comment on Chapter Five, and it said my story *wait for this* wasn't realistic.

*face palm*

Seriously? If you saw the comment Wattpad replied, they pretty much summed it up. This is a FICTION story, not a NON-FICTION. I'm NOT going to go back and change my story so it's more REALISTIC. This story is NOT made to be realistic. It is entirely out of imagination.

Someone else said my story was kind of like Maximum Ride. Well, after I asked my smarty-pants friend what that book was about, he explained. I've barely gotten passed the first book, so I see where that person could get the idea how it's similar. This isn't a fan-fic, I would never write one of those. One) I would forget everything. Two) I find those...weird. **To that person, I'm not trying to chew you out. I'm just trying to say that this story isn't going to end up like Maximum Ride. I'm trying to save people from commenting on something that has already been pointed out. It'll help me too, so I don't have to respond with the same message over and over and over again....not that Wattpad lets you do that. Thanks for pointing that out (:**

Dedication for this Chapter Goes To: ChelseaaSmile

Another one of my AWESOME readers who added my story to their libary! You know why I love it because I've said it every single chapter, haha. Thank you Chelseaa!

(I think that's your real name right?)

Wow, that was a LONG A/N. Enjoy the chapter!

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Chapter Twenty-Two:

"Nope." I said.

"I didn't even tell you what I wanted to discuss with you." the man said.

"The answer is no anyways." I shook my head.

The man was hovering over me now.

"Let me talk, you little brat." he said through his teeth and slapped me.

My body reacted to the slap like a punch in the mouth. So, I took that feeling, and punched-or I guess kicked-him in the mouth. My hands were still handcuffed because I tried escaping...lets say...four or five times.

I harrumphed, "Fine."

The guy didn't do anything but continued on.

"What-"

"Wait!" I held up my handcuffed hands as a thought came to me.

"How did you know that you caught the real us?" I questioned.

"One: we have a device that already tracks you. Two: when we couldn't catch up with you, we hired that salon lady." he gestured towards the door.

"How did you know we were going to dye our hair?" I challenged.

"We tracked you..." he said slowly like he was speaking to a three-year-old.

A girl-the same one from the salon-walked in. I stared her down. She did the same back, then she looked towards the floor. I stuck my tongue out childishly. The guy looked irritated.

"What I wanted to discuss with you is that we would like to test-"

"NO!" I yelled.

"Let...me...speak..." he growled.

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