It was Sister Angelo who named me Ghost. At the time the other kids laughed because they thought she was making a joke on account of me being coloured.

But, Sister Angelo was the only person I know who ever really saw me.

Everyone thought I was dumb because I didn’t speak much. At the end of my first day in Sister Angelo’s class she hunkered down, looked right at me, and told me that she was glad to have a boy in her class who was quiet and polite. The lines around her eyes crinkled when she smiled. She made me believe that hard work and honesty are all a man need to succeed in life.

“Ghost,” she told me one day, “no one can take away a man’s dreams and hopes.”

Dreams are a terrible burden sometimes. I long to put them aside, because despair is easy and tempting.

But I don’t. For Sister Angelo’s sake, and my own.

Match the story (and the number) to the face at Mirrors.

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