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The moment Terry opened the door and saw them, Dewey saw flashes of emotions on her face, one after another - surprise, suspicion, amusement, and then alarm. It seemed like only a moment ago she was sighing, "Can't you change out of your converses, Dewey, jeez! If you can at least not look like a jerk, that would make up for acting like one." And now they were back, too soon, and all wrong. Terry's eyes went from his face to his dirtied and ripped clothing, then slid over to shivering Whitney, clutching her bare brown arms, and then to the drops of blood on her pale pink dress.
Terry glared at Dewey. "What did you do?" she demanded.