As a child, my family was rich . . . like Oprah rich, but not the legal way. Apparently, there’s a difference. But try explaining that to a fourteen-year-old. Try telling a teenager they have to sell all their stuff, that their father’s going to prison, that they’ll have to transfer to a public school, that their friends would no longer be their friends, that everything they’ve ever known would come crashing down around them and be nothing more than a cruel memory, a dream just short of reach.

