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For today's Six Sentence Sunday, I'm remaining with my YA urban fantasy WIP, Osland. Here, the protagonist runs into a rather odd new restriction at her new school:
After we passed a few fountains, I said, “This school is f. . .this school is f. . .this school is messed up.” The f-bomb wouldn’t come out—more than a little weird. While I’d like to think I wasn’t super-foul-mouthed, on occasion, I did let a few colorful words slip out. Sure, I’ll admit after Mom and Dad died, the f-bombs started dropping a bit more often, but I never had trouble pushing the words out. Now I could barely even think of them. Did the teachers drug the water or something?