As Selena walked into the parking lot, she was thinking about this matter when something suddenly hit her head. A dull pain lanced through her, upon which she touched her head, only to feel something sticky. When she looked at her hand again, it was bright red. She then whirled around to see a boy in jeans snickering at her. “You’re a murderer! I hate rich people like you most! What’s so great about having money?” the boy roared indignantly.
“Do you know the truth of the matter? If you don’t, just shut up!” Enduring the pain, Selena headed toward her car.
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