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Even with the Interzonal games, the finished tome was only ninety-six pages.

All ninety-six lines home, I practice a question for Deb in my head.

“Four thousand and ninety-six times as pretty! And now tell me—what’s making that frown between your eyebrows?”

His father and his father’s father lived to be ninety-six because of a glass of vino a day, he says.

By the height of the day, temperatures would soar to ninety-six degrees—fourteen degrees above normal.