Growing up, while the other boys in the neighborhood were outside playing baseball, John was content to stay indoors and watch his mother as she worke... on her computer. He was always asking her questions and she never talked down to him, always giving him direct answers. He always had his head buried in books. His mother would give him classics written by Jules Verne, Mark Twain, and Robert Louis Stevenson. He was a frequent visitor to the public library, reading all the Hardy Boys novels and. You’re hallucinating!”“I assume it’s OK if I come back after class and sleep in your bed while you’re gone?” Stephie inquired.“At this point, Peaches, it’s our bed. You’re there every night,” I said.“Until the end of the semester, anyway,” Stephie responded with a note of sadness.“When are you flying home?” I asked.“Saturday morning after finals. Will you take me to the airport?”“Of course. I can go home anytime on Saturday.”We finished breakfast, and I packed my weekend bag, Stephie grabbed. More

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