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Unformatted text preview: get into his room in Intensive Care on Christ- mas Night and hold his hand. He wasn't going to die. There was hurt to his heart, yes, because he'd stopped breathing for a long time in the cold water, and he had to rest to heal that hurt, but he was nowhere near dying, she knew that as soon as she felt his pulse. And touching him had been rather like touching a Mayfair. He had something extra to him which Mayfairs always had. He could see ghosts, she knew. The History of the Mayfair Witches had not included him and Rowan, but she knew. She wondered if he'd tell the truth about it. Fact, she'd even heard some maddening whispers to the effect that he had. Oh, so much to learn, so much to uncover. And being thirteen was kind of like a bad joke on her. She was no more thirteen than Joan of Arc had ever been thirteen, the way she saw it. Or Catherine of Siena. Of course they were saints but only by a hair. They were almost witches. And what about the Children's Crusade? If Mona had been there, they would have gotten back the Holy Land, she figured. What if she started a nationwide revolt of genius thirteen-year-olds right now- demand for the power to vote based on intelligence, a...
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- Spring '10