Read the paragraph from Nick’s personal narrative.Standing alone in my family’s barn, I thought about how much hard work and time my parents had invested—how much hard work and time we had all invested—in maintaining a fully operational farm. I did not remember a time when my clothes had not reeked of manure or my hair had not held fast to brittle pieces of straw. What would happen if my parents had to sell the farm so we could move closer to my grandparents? Just as I was attempting to imagine a life in the city, a sudden commotion erupted and interrupted my thoughts. With animals squawking and dust flying, I scrambled to pinpoint the source of this unexpected intrusion. In seconds that felt more like minutes, I was successful . . . and I could scarcely believe what my eyes were seeing.
Read the beginning of Trevor’s narrative.Thinking back on that afternoon, I knew then that my best friend was keeping something from me. If I thought about it—I mean, really thought about it—there had been other signs. They may have been subtle, but they had been there, nonetheless.
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