Chapter 7

Chapter 7 Chapter 7 Headlights beamed through my bedroom window, alerting me that Dad was home, and I hadn't set the table for dinner. I raced into the dining room as Dad came in, grumbling about the darn snow and ice. "Oh, George, you complained about the traffic and terrible roads when we were back in Jamaica," Mom reminded him. "Yes, but at least it was warmer there," he laughed, and we nodded in agreement. As I placed the old, familiar plates and silverware on the table, I thought about

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Chapter 7

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