SUNDAY, 9:20 A.M.
The next morning, during breakfast at the same café where Dad had bought their chicken dinner, Mom wondered about the local churches.
Dad frowed and looked at his watch. “I haven’t had a chance . . .”
Mom shook her head. “Mr. King, next week for sure. No excuses.”
Dad smiled. “Absolutely.”
Twenty minutes later, the Kings found themselves in front of Pinedale Middle and Senior High School. Xander could not find the right words to describe it. Okay, it had a nice setting— quaint, peaceful. Situated up a forested hill, it overlooked the town. On three sides the tree-covered hills continued, giving the school a lush, green backdrop. The building itself was a brick single-story. L-shaped. In the square yard between the wings were grass, several flat-rock patios, picnic tables, and a flagpole. A lot like a park, he thought. Still, it was a school.
“Pretty, isn’t it?” his mother said.
“It’s okay,” he answered, shrugging. “Does pretty really matter when it comes to education?” Trying to sound enlightened.
She gave him a dirty look. “Hey, you’re the one who has to look at it for the next three years, not me.”
They all climbed out of the SUV. From their vantage point in the front parking lot, marked Visitors and Fac-ulty Only, they could see the end zone and scoreboard of a football field around back.
David pointed to the statue of an animal leaping over the scoreboard. “Their mascot’s a cougar. That’s cool.”
“Panther,” Dad said. “Pinedale Panthers.”
“That’s cool too.”
Mom crossed the pickup lane and stepped into the grassy area. “Come on, let’s have a look.”
David, forgetting himself, ran to catch up. Toria followed.
Dad stepped up next to Xander. He patted his son on the back, then laid his hand on Xander’s shoulder. He said, “Not interested?”
“I’ll see enough of it after next week.”
“I know it’s tough to change schools. I did a lot of that.”
Xander turned to him. “So that makes it okay?”
“I’m not saying that. Just . . .” Dad seemed to search for the right words. “I wouldn’t have done this to you if it wasn’t important.”
“Important to who?”
“Us. The family. Me.”
“That’s the part I don’t get. Why is it important? I thought you liked being a teacher. I thought you liked Valley High.”
“I did. I—” Dad looked up at the sky. After a few moments, he lowered his eyes to Xander’s. “You gotta trust me on this, okay?” Xander turned away, pretending to watch Mom, Dae, and Toria scope out the school. Did he have to trust him? It wasn’t really trusting him he had to do, was it? It was really about going along with his plan, because he was a kid and couldn’t do anything else. Not yet.
He said, “Sounds like you don’t have a good reason.”
“I do,” his father said. “I just can’t . . . I can’t get into it right now with you. When I can I will.”
Xander bowed his head. What is this? he thought. Dad had a secret reason for moving all of them to Pinedale? Or was it Pasadena he was moving them from? Was he going to something or run- ning from something? A hundred possibilities occurred to him at once: Was his father in the Witness Protection Program? Had he discovered a treasure map and was determined to make them all rich? Had he had an affair, and distancing all of them from the other woman was the only way to hold the family together?
Nothing sounded right. But it had to be something. Probably it was a midlife crisis or something else equally lame.
“Son,” his father continued, “don’t think you’re here simply because I want to be and I have to bring you along. You’re not baggage or furniture. I need you.”
“But you can’t tell me why.” Xander held his lips tight.
His father’s shoulders slumped. He looked miserable. He said, “Not yet.”
“When?”
“Soon, I promise. But don’t fight me on this, as hard as it is for you . . . please.” He extended his hand to Xander, wanting to seal his son’s compliance with a shake.
Xander knew his dad was trying to bridge a gap. He stared at the hand, then grabbed it. He let a weak smile bend his lips.
He said, “I’ll try to do better.”
“That’s all I’m asking for.” Dad cocked his head at the school. “Wanna check it out?”
They started walking. Dad kept his palm pressed to Xander’s back. Mom, David, and Toria were gazing into different windows.
“Classroom,” Mom called out.
“Here’s the library,” David informed her.
Toria said something Xander couldn’t make out.
Dad and Xander stepped onto the open area’s grass. It was thick and impossibly green. It felt like an exercise mat under Xander’s feet.
“I still want to go home,” he said.
“I know, Son.” He slid his hand to Xander’s shoulder, squeezed it. “I know.”
A few paces farther, Xander said, “Dad?”
“Hmm?”
“If I guess your secret, will you tell me if I’m right?”
His father laughed but didn’t answer.