With incredible sadness in her voice, she answered, “Yes and no. John Carter was my hero. The last time I saw him, he had the same look in his eyes ...hat you have. I don’t know how to describe it. There’s a mixture of a hundred different feelings in it. There is strength, weakness, pride, humility, bravery, fear, happiness, sadness, and ... well ... there are more contradictory emotions than I can even name. Underneath all those contradictions, two things shined forth more than anything else:. Mr. Richardson opened the door and, of course didn’t recognize me, and was very interested in my getup, like everyone who had seen me that morning. After I reminded him who I was, he was quick to invite me in. I explained most of my situation, telling him of my father’s beating, and making it sound like it was almost a daily occurrence and begged him not to call my folks. I offered to show him the marks on my back and front if he wanted, but fortunately he begged off. I apparently was. More

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