Benedict
“Sweetheart, we’re having an important political dinner this weekend. I don’t know if you have any plans, but you’ll have to cancel them. This is important,” my mother says when I walk in the door after school.
Oh darn. I won’t be able to go to Christa’s birthday party. What a disappointment. Not!
“Of course I’ll be there, mother,” I say, kissing her cheek as I pass.
“Bene! Wait up,” my sister, Bethany, says as she rushes into the house behind me.
My mother decided that we should all have ‘B’ names, Benedict – my father, Benedict – me, Beatrice is my mother and that left Bethany for my sister. Personally, I’d love to have pups someday with names that begin with ANYTHING other than a B.
“What happened with Slade? I know you know,” Bethany says. She and Slade are in the same y
