Devan

Snapping the plastic lid in place, I secure the two quarts of fresh strawberries. They’re cleaned, hulled, and delicious. Since I picked them this morning, I’m not sure they could be any fresher.

Ricky comes in the back door. Instead of heading up the stairs as he usually does, he pulls out a kitchen chair and sits.

“Hi,” I say.

“I want to see your classroom.”

“You do? Why?”

He smirks. ...