I didn’t have to punch him. Why hadn’t I just told him he was out of line?
After Mom served everyone their food, Dad seemed to decide that he ought to be the one directing the conversation.
“So, Mike and Matt,” he says, “you’re seniors this year.”
“Amen!” they say together. “Amen? As in you’re glad high school’s over?”
“Absolutely.” My father starts twirling his fork. “Why’s that?”
Matt and Mike look at each other, then back at my dad. “The regurgitation gets to you after a while.”
“Isn’t that funny,” he says, looking around the table.
High school was probably the best time of my life.” Matt-or-Mike says, “Seriously? Dude, it’s totally lame!”
Mrs. Baker shoots him a look, but that doesn’t stop him. “Well, it is, Mom. It’s that whole robotron attitude of education.
Confine, confute, conform—I’ve had totally enough of that scene.”
My dad eyes my mom with a little I-told-you-so grin, then says to Matt and Mike, “So I take it college is out of the question?”
God, what was with him? In a flash I was clutching my fork and knife,
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