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May 27, 2003
I grabbed my backpack from its hook, stuck my arm into its inner pocket, and pulled out two bottles of Bass Dark Ale that I had stolen from our refrigerator. I figured my father wasn’t going to remember how many he had left when he got out.

“Here, Mr. Calloway.”

“What are you doing? Where did you get that? You can’t bring alcohol to school. Mother of God, I’m your teacher!”

I used the bottle opener on my keychain and popped opened both lids. I placed one on his desk and slowly began draining the other.

“Here you go, dad.”