20

STRIKE—DAY 3

The next thing I knew, a bright light was shining in my eyes, and a scary voice was yelling, “Get up!”

I wasn’t sure if it was a dream or not. I tried to open one eye. “What time is it?”

“Five o’clock,” said the voice, which I was slowly starting to realize was my dad’s.

I rubbed my eyes and saw him standing there in his suit and tie. It was still completely dark out, but he’d turned all the lights on in the room. I realized this was when he headed out the door to work every day, and I suddenly felt bad for him.

“Are you waking me up to say goodbye?”

He pushed my legs off the couch and sat down. “No. I’m waking you up to tell you that if you don’t go to school today, you’ll be grounded for the entire summer.”

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I’ll be grounded for the entire summer.”

My dad looked like he was about to yell, but he didn’t. Instead, he just said quietly, “Jack, you are unbelievable.”

My mom came into the room, looking like a zombie.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m trying to get it through our son’s head that this nonsense has gone on long enough,” said my dad.

“Okay, but it’s five in the morning, he should be sleeping—”

“STOP UNDERMINING ME!” my dad yelled at my mom. “I’m trying to take care of this situation. If it were up to you, he’d have a perfectly swell time on the couch the rest of his life!”

“That’s not true,” said my mom. “I just go about things differently than you.”

“You don’t go about things at all!” said my dad, still yelling, though not as loudly. “You’re too nice! You can’t even discipline your own son. Don’t you see how much harder that makes it for me?”

It was my mom’s turn to raise her voice a bit. “Well, you’re the one who’s so convinced that Jack has to spend his life running around from thing to thing to thing. This is your mess, you figure it out.”

“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do!”

“Fine!”

“STOP FIGHTING!” I interrupted, joining the yelling. “I don’t want to live on the couch for the rest of my life, obviously! I just want to live a normal life and do the things I want to do! What is wrong with that?”

My dad looked at his watch, mumbled something under his breath, and got off the couch.

“I’m going to miss the train.” He stared at my mom. “I want him in school today.”

Then he walked out of the room and left the house without kissing her goodbye.

“I’m really sorry, Mom,” I said.

She looked at me. “Go back to sleep,” was all she said.