I take a deep breath. Pushing open the door, I’m hit by a sea of faces and a hubbub of noise. Everything is a blur, and I can’t recognize anyone at first. But then I spot my good friend Marilyn. And, yes, I think that’s John — the one who nearly blew up the school with homemade fireworks. As Marilyn and I embrace, and talk eagerly, other faces begin to look familiar. Memory awakens, and names and details bubble up to the surface.
This is by far the most challenging reunion I’ve...
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