I can picture eating meals at their large kitchen table. Sleeping in an upstairs bedroom in that lovely house. Playing outside from morning to night. ...ometimes following the workers as they prepared a grave site or cleaned up after a recent burial.I know we were warned to stay away from the mining holes (there were 3 of them) as they were filled with water. Beneath them was a dangerous mix of old equipment and loose boulders.I know they purchased a swimming pool not long after our arrival. I. I wanted to know if Ching Lee wanted to join me and possibly bring a couple of her administrators along for a field trip.I held the flight until Ching Lee, Penny Werner and Alexandria Williams - who were two of her administrators - arrived. Ching Lee had her go bag and a computer case with her and she was berating the two for procrastinating on putting a go bag together to keep at the office.A go bag was a simple thing to put together, two or three pairs of panties, bras, socks, a sweatshirt. “What the fuck is her problem? Doesn’t she know color doesn’t matter? Geez, Martin Luther King said that thing about . . . you know . . . about how color doesn’t matter. I’m not racist. I only fuck Black cocks. Get over it you fucking jungle bunny, slavery was over a long time ago.” It was pretty much assured that Jenny wouldn’t be getting a job doing diversity or sensitivity training upon graduation. Once inside his sparsely furnished apartment, Jenny wanted the party to start. “You got. “Sure. What?”He had been speaking quietly before, but now it was almost a whisper. “You can’t tell anybody about what happened in Mister Garofalo’s office ... you know...”My eyes opened wide at that. Bo didn’t want me telling he had been crying and pissed his pants! “Don’t worry. I was just as scared as you.”He sagged back against the lockers in relief. “Thanks! You have no idea the shit I would get over that.”I grinned at him. “Maybe I just won’t talk as long as you pay me your lunch.