Eighteen

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Eighteen;

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It was only a couple of days before Christmas break did I find a note inside my locker, telling me to go to the Hall at breaktime. I recognised the small, flowing and rather neat handwriting, so I scrunched up the letter angrily.

Why?

But, for good measure, I put the scrunched up note in my pocket. My music folder may or may not have been in my backpack all this time, waiting. Waiting for this moment.

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