Dad asked me to sit down, and I told him I had to make toast. Then he asked me how it felt to be a turtle.
"Baby turtles," he said, "their eggs hatch, and they have to get from the ocean to the beach--"
"From the beach to the ocean," mom interjected.
"Right, from the beach to the ocean. And all this bad shit happens to them before they get there. Everything tries to eat them."
"And so few of them make it."
I've lost my sharpie pen, the green one that makes things better, and the last memory I'm going to have of this boy is when he leaned over in my advanced placement government class and asked a classmate to get him a book.