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... en soda. Fizz and John did not need words; they traded a look that was mostly arithmetic. Between them, with the right angle, a third-class beast was a problem, not a crisis. But attention was another predator.
"Too much noise if we show off," Fizz murmured.
"We do not need to," John said. "We need five points. Ten cores. We can do that and pretend it was hard."
Meanwhile others around them.
The benches breathed out a hundred little noises as the crowd stood, then ...
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