The Last Day of Freedom

The next week and a half of summer flies by—I help Mom walk dogs at the “spa,” learn new stunts with Matt, practice animation techniques with Dad, and build Carly’s new burglar system. When I run into Joe Brennan at the playground, he tells me his new story about a duck that lays exploding eggs. It’s not really a bad idea and I spend a few minutes collaborating with him. And I miss Grandma’s chocolate cake with coconut frosting almost as much as I miss her, which is a lot.

Amy has left for college, so my parents let me accompany them on their Thursday-night date. At the Japanese restaurant, we take turns making up new inventions. I tell them I want to create a machine that slows down time so summer never ends.

“I assume you want one that speeds up time too,” my father says, “so you can fast-forward through the school year.”

“But then I’d miss the good stuff that happens—like hearing Bodi snore or getting a pet monkey.” My mother shakes her head, but I get the feeling I’m wearing her down.

When the chef throws water on the fire, the flames rise three feet into the air. While everyone else oohs and aahs, I dive to the floor. “Fire!” I yell. “Stop, drop, and roll! Stop, drop, and roll.”

Everyone laughs except Mom and Dad. Mom uses her chopsticks to point to my seat, and Dad slumps in his chair, but for a second I detect the beginning of a smile.

“Your son really took those fire prevention lessons to heart,” another customer tells Mom.

“He’s our pride and joy.” She gives the man a huge smile while gripping my leg under the table like a vise.

I suddenly realize there are only a few days left until the first day of school and I haven’t finished the book from Ms. Williams. But that doesn’t stop me from bugging my parents to let us see a movie on the way home.

Or asking one more time about getting a monkey.