“Come on, Ari,” Jackson whispers next to me, even though I barely hear him, so hard am I concentrating on the paper, on the magic within me. “You can do this.” But suddenly I feel his hand on my back, warm and encouraging.
I take a deep breath, trying to lean into his faith, but I have to admit my surprise when that hand drifts all the way down on my back, even lower until he grips the edge of my shirt tucked into my pants and tugs it free.
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