Is it because I'm a girl?"Reluctantly, Bill nodded his head.She looked at him for a moment, her lips trembling, and Richie thought she would cry. Instead, she exploded. "Well, fuck you!" She whirled around to look at the others, and they flinched from her gaze, so hot it was nearly radioactive. "Fuck all of you if you think the same thing!" she turned back to Bill and began to talk fast, rapping him with words. "This is something more than some diddly shit kids game like tag, or guns, or hide and go seek, and you know it, Bill! We're supposed to do this, that's part of it! And you're not going to cut me out just because I'm a girl, do you understand? You better. Or I'm leaving right now!
He overheard the director talking to one of the cameramen. The cameraman was explaining that he couldn__ get a good long shot on the exterior because someone had set up a fake graveyard right in the plaza.__ids just playing around, I guess, but it__ morbid; we__l have to get rid of it, maybe bring in some sod to____o,_ Albert said.__e__e almost ready for you,_ the director assured him.__hat__ not a fake graveyard. Those aren__ fake graves. No one was playing around.___ou__e saying those . . . those are actually . . .___hat do you think happened here?_ Albert asked in a soft voice. __hat do you think this was?_ Absurdly, embarrassingly, he had started to cry. __hose are kids buried there. Some of them were torn apart, you know. By coyotes. By . . . by bad people. Shot. Crushed. Like that. Some of those kids in the ground there couldn__ take it, the hunger and the fear . . . some of those kids out there had to be cut down from the ropes they used to hang themselves. Early on, when we still had any animals? I had a crew go out and hunt down cats. Cats and dogs and rats. Kill them. Other kids to skin them . . . cook them up.__here were a dozen crew people in the McDonald__. None spoke or moved.Albert brushed away tears and sighed. __eah. So don__ mess with the graves. Okay? Other than that, we__e good to go.
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He overheard the director talking to one of the cameramen. The cameraman was explaining that he couldn__ get a good long shot on the exterior because someone had set up a fake graveyard right in the plaza.__ids just playing around, I guess, but it__ morbid; we__l have to get rid of it, maybe bring in some sod to____o,_ Albert said.__e__e almost ready for you,_ the director assured him.__hat__ not a fake graveyard. Those aren__ fake graves. No one was playing around.___ou__e saying those . . . those are actually . . .___hat do you think happened here?_ Albert asked in a soft voice. __hat do you think this was?_ Absurdly, embarrassingly, he had started to cry. __hose are kids buried there. Some of them were torn apart, you know. By coyotes. By . . . by bad people. Shot. Crushed. Like that. Some of those kids in the ground there couldn__ take it, the hunger and the fear . . . some of those kids out there had to be cut down from the ropes they used to hang themselves. Early on, when we still had any animals? I had a crew go out and hunt down cats. Cats and dogs and rats. Kill them. Other kids to skin them . . . cook them up.__here were a dozen crew people in the McDonald__. None spoke or moved.Albert brushed away tears and sighed. __eah. So don__ mess with the graves. Okay? Other than that, we__e good to go.
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