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Well, he was chatty.

That was, in all probability, a very good sign. With any luck he was simply too busy spewing drivel in class to pay attention, rather than actually moronic. There was potential here. She could work with that.

"It's Georgia Lee, actually. Not Georgia. Georgia Lee." She took the proffered hand and shook it. His grip was firm.

She could see, standing in front of him, why people called him Beaks. His nose was certainly... prominent.

The nickname seemed more fitting the more she looked. He was nearly half a foot shorter than she, and there was a definite birdlike quality to him, with his narrow, delicate limbs.

"Beaks it is then. Shall we get started?"

Georgia Lee looked past Beaks into the Slattery house. Everything inside confirmed what she'd thought outside, albeit more so. It was clean, uncluttered. Thought had obviously gone into every piece of furniture, rather than just what had been cheap, or passed on by relatives. There was actual art on the walls that looked like it had been painted by people who weren't high schoolers, unlike in the Day household. There wasn't just decoration, there was decor.

This was the sort of house she'd live in one day, Georgia Lee resolved.

One step at a time, though. She knew exactly how momentous her goals were, and the only way one could reasonably approach them was piece by tiny piece.

The first step then was to tutor the Slatterys' idiot son.

"Whereabouts are we doing this?"

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What Are Little Boys Made Of? · The Neighborhood