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Rudy stared eagerly at the clock, watching the seconds, then minutes, tick by as the school year came to a close. The classroom was like a furnace, not only holding in heat, but seeming also to take it in through the open windows. He waited eagerly as his teacher, Mrs. Winlock, passed out the year-end reports one by one.
After handing them all out, she sat down at her desk and said those final, long awaited words to her class of fifth, sixth and seventh graders, “thank you class, see you next year!” With that the children let out a collective whoop as they quickly gathered their things and left the drudgery of books and assignments behind them. Except Rudy. He sat quietly perplexed; he hadn’t received a home report.
“Reuben,” Mrs. Winlock said softly, “stay behind please, I’d like to speak with you.”
Rudy remained in his seat and nodded. He liked Mrs. Winlock, she was nice. She came from one of the town’s most prominent families. She lived in a huge Victorian home on acres and acres of land. She even had servants but she wasn’t haughty or stuck up, at least not the way Rudy imagined rich folks to be. She had a definite air of class about her, but she treated everyone like a dear old friend, often inviting people to her home for a meal or tea, regardless of station or race. He had heard adults talking about her family having had slaves, but he never dared ask her about…
