Fourth grade was a memorable school year – both a boy and a dog bit me, leaving two quite different scars.
Along the hairline on the left side of my forehead is a barely distinguishable spot that is compliments of my classmate Frank, who ran into me during a game of Red Rover on the playground of Cranston-Calvert Elementary School in Newport, RI. His two front teeth broke open my skin, leaving a small gash that required several stitches.
The other scar, from the dog who ran up behind me as I ...
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