Narrator: Ninth grade man. Noble, upright, virtuous. I went into my last year of Junior High thinking I knew all the answers. And suddenly all I had was questions. Plus a dislocated thumb. It's funny. I remembered the time when I knew who I was. But that was eight hours ago. Suddenly I felt on the outside, looking in. Looking for... Winnie. I wanted to tell her everything, every bit of it. All the setbacks, all the screw-ups. Heck. I knew she'd understand. After all when you're fourteen, you can't always put words to life. All I knew was... I felt home again.

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