The only problem with what Mr. Martin was saying was that none of the words he’d used to describe me lined up with the words I would have used. Poor? Underserved? From a tough place? As much as I liked attention and people feeling bad for me about my Pops and stuff like that, I had never thought of myself in those terms. Gio had a tough background. Naomi, a girl I’d dated for a month my sophomore year, who’d told me about the horrors of foster care, had a tough background. Shit, even Chris, a Chinese kid in my honors class who worked eight hours a day after school at his parents’ restaurant in
...more
