Pippa fusses over me when we leave the bathroom, chattering about my poor bruised jaw and how we’re going to cover that up with makeup. But I sit down on my bed and make a big show of yawning, wanting a minute alone to catch my proverbial breath and better hide my new weapon. As I lean back against my pillows, though, something crinkles beneath me in a very non-fabric-y way.
It takes all of my willpower not to let my eyes fly wide, to grab at whatever little piece of paper is there. Instead, I just lean more fully back and stretch my arms over my head.
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