Chapter 17: Father

Mr. Hargrove did not hurry.

He walked down the aisle with the whole school turning to watch him, and he stopped at the foot of the stage.

"Headmaster," he said pleasantly. "I apologize for the disruption. My son is unwell."

"Sir, your son has just..."

"My son has had a breakdown. He'll come home with me now."

He held out one hand, palm up.

Drake looked at the hand from the stage.

"I'm not unwell," he said into the microphone. "I'm done lying. You can go home, Dad."

A rustle went through the hall. Nobody had ever heard anyone say that to him.

Mr. Hargrove's smile stayed exactly where it was. It was his eyes that changed.

"Turn off the microphone," he said, very softly, to nobody.

"No," Drake said.

"Then let me say this where your friends can hear it."

He turned to face the rows. His voice did not need a microphone.

"As of this morning my son has no allowance, no car and no card. He has no room in my house."

I felt it go through the hall.

"The school will have its tuition through the end of the term. After that, Drake may pay it himself."

"Mr. Hargrove," the headmaster began.

"I am a patient man," Mr. Hargrove said. "I will not be a fool twice."

He looked at his son one more time, and then at me, standing in the back row.

It was a brief look. It was the one you give a stain you mean to have removed.

Then he buttoned his overcoat and walked out the way he had come.

The doors closed. The hall went quiet for a long moment.

Drake stood on the stage with the microphone in his hand and nothing else.

"Okay," he said, to the empty air where his father had been.

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