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Esteban
stood
at
the
front
of
the
room,
staring
at
the
page.
Then
he
lifted
his
head
and
looked
at
us.
We
cheered
again,
even
louder
this
time.
I
don't
know
if
any
of
us
really
understood
his
dad's
poem.
But
for
a
long
time
after
he'd
finished
reading,
I
thought
about
that
army
of
ants,
how
they
were
coming
together.
Like
us.
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