Alvie Hutchinson stared quietly at the blank computer screen, his forlorn features belaying his mood. It wasn't uncommon for the electricity to blow out during a storm, but this time it mattered to Alvie. The final paragraph of his essay for that wretched Mrs. Krauler had was almost complete...only to have it torn away at the very last second.
A boy of eleven years of age, Alvie knew that it wasn't very appropriate for one so close to manhood to cry, but he could feel the moisture gathering around the rims of his hazel eyes. Alvie stared down at his hands, tracing each ridge with his eyes. After a few moments, the boy raised his hands to wipe a tear that had escaped his eye and was now making its way down his left hand. With a sigh, one that indicated his
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