*And she hasn’t paid her back yet.

A couple of days ago I took Reagan to the orthodontist, on the way home, clutching the precious paper that would give her school-time access to the wonders of chewable flavored rubber, she said, “The other day Jesse turned in a gum pass to Mrs. W.”


“He doesn’t have braces.”


“And he had whited out a name and written his in and changed the date.”

Yesterday Taylor got home from his first chess meet and said “I’m not good at being black!”

Last night leaving our tiny local grocery store Reagan whispered, “You know that clerk? She deals pot.”

“How do you know?”

V., Rea’s thirteen year-old friend, told Rea that her mom, K., “*borrowed” thirty dollars from her so she could buy pot from the rotund store clerk.


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