During my senior year of high school, my English class read Huck Finn. It was wedged into one of those anthologies that they force you to carry around in high school. The big test contained a true and false section in which every answer was true. The night before, one of my classmates threw a ****leberry Hinn party, which I wasn't invited to and even now sounds somewhat mythological, but it definitely happened. I remember sitting home that night and re-reading Huckleberry Finn. It stands as the only book I've ever re-read. While I was reviewing the story I wondered if it would ever pay off. I got a 100 on the test, and ended the year with the highest GPA in the class, which would have counted for absolutely nothing, except for that I was an unremarkable student and my average ended up being higher than the Salutatorian's, who had allegedly taken non-AP classes to help boost his GPA. So that's always felt good. The story sparked my interest in literature.