At the very least I grew up in a nice, rich neighborhood, as my mother likes to remind me. She says how I should be proud that we have a big house and...don’t live in the slums. Proud that I’m not on the street. I’m happy for her that she likes our lifestyle, but when I was little none of that mattered to me. Back then, life was like never-ending summer. Even in the snowy days. I remember lounging in the yard, lying on my belly in the grass and watching the bugs creep through the leaves. You. ‘They do good stuff for people every day.’ Ben remained quiet, watching and listening, as the kids struggled with the question he’d asked them. His eyes scanned the class, but kept drifting to Dawn Dillon. ‘I can’t believe how much she looks like her mother,’ he thought. ‘She has the same slim build, the same lovely eyes, and her hair’s even the same color.’ The kids kept the discussion going, making some good points. When conversation began lagging, Ben decided to see if he could get them. More

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