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“Is that the only reason you stopped by?”

I press my face against the metal pin sculpture. When I pull it away, my expression is caught in a scream. “Well, it’s not like you’re using it right now.”Advertisement

“When your grades improve, we can talk about the car.” Dad shakes the sculpture out, erasing me. “Hey, you’ll probably like these.”

From a desk drawer, he removes a stack of photos and shoves them into my hands. They’re vacation pics—a couple of guys in Gold Coast University T-shirts backpacking in the mountains. A trio of girls at some mega bowling alley. A crew of rowdy college kids on the beach during spring break. I don’t know any of these people. “Some of my students have this project. They stole a yard gnome from somebody’s lawn and have taken him on vacation all over the world. They pass him off to whoever’s going on a trip next.”

Now I can see the little guy peeking out in each picture, all fat red cheeks, white beard, and twinkling eyes. Well, if he could twinkle. He looks like he wants to. He also looks like he could cheerfully beat the crap out of his smug kidnappers. Or maybe he likes to travel. Maybe he sends postcards to the other yard gnomes: Having a great time. No sprinklers here.

“Funny,” I say, throwing them back on his desk, where they fan out in a photographic arch.

“You didn’t even look at them.”

“Yeah, I did.”

Dad sighs. “You know, Cameron, you might at least pretend to be interested in my life.”

“Dad, I looked at them.”

He tidies them up and puts a rubber band around them so they’re contained, like him. That’s my dad. Never yell when you can simmer. Never scream when you can cut somebody with a look. Never go ahead and have that fight when you can feel righteous about walking away and giving them your back. I’ve seen a lot of my dad’s back.

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“About the car. I was thinking I could just use it to run a few errands and then I could come back for you, you know, whenever you’re done.” I throw him a father-son-bonding bone at the last minute. “Maybe we could get some pizza.”

“What errands?”

“You know,” I say, shrugging.

“No, I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

“Just some errands. For school.”

“What do you need for school?”

“Nothing.”

“Cameron. That doesn’t make sense.”

“I just need to borrow the car. To get some stuff. No big deal.”

“Stuff,” Dad says, playing with his pen. “Books? Clothes? Sports equipment?”

Dad would cream himself if I said sports equipment. “I was kind of thinking of going out for lacrosse this year. Might look good on the college apps.”

“A solid GPA would look better,” Dad shoots back. He and Mom can’t figure out how two professors ended up with such a C+ average of a kid.

“So can I borrow the car?”

“No. I’m working late tonight.”

Working late. With Raina, no doubt. His T and A.

“Fine,” I growl. “Can I at least borrow your ID card so I can get a discount at the campus bookstore? I need to pick up a copy of Don Quixote for English class,” I lie.

“No problemo.” Dad smiles and hands me his ID card. To the untrained eye, it looks like he’s happy to help me out. But I know he’s only happy that he’s won. I take the card and pocket it.

“You’re welcome,” Dad says.

“Great. So I’ll see you later.”

“Would it kill you to say thanks?”

“Possibly. And since I could end up dead, it seems like an extreme test. Don’t you think?” Who’s winning now, Dad?

“Only the one book.” He turns around to face his computer screen. Hello, Dad’s back. I’ve missed you. What took you so long?

The arrival of the Back means it’s officially time to go, but my foot has fallen asleep. It’s all pins and needles and I can’t quite feel it under me when I stand on it. I try to stop myself from falling by bringing my hand down hard on the desk. The snow globe topples over and shatters, soaking the yard gnome pictures.

“Cameron!” Dad shouts, pushing his chair back and away from his wet desk. A little hits his pants in a bad spot.

“I tripped, okay? My foot was asleep! Wasn’t my fault.”

“Nothing ever is.” Dad opens his desk drawer and pulls out his collection of convenience-store napkins. He’s dabbing furiously at the pictures, assessing the damage. “It’s okay,” he says. pqdm.com