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it。 “How'd you get the gear？”
My mom kicks him again； but Dad turns on her and says； “Stop it； would you？ I'm just
curious！”
Matt…or…Mike says； “It's cool； Mrs。 Loski。” He smiles at my dad and says； “We kept cruising
the Inter and the trades looking for a deal。
Everyone's blowing out their old analog gear for digital because that's the move everyone
else has made。 Digital； if you want to know our opinion； is
weak。 You lose too much of the waveform。 There's not enough fat to it； and obviously we like
it beefy。”
My granddad puts up a finger and says； “But a CD's digital； so…”
“Exactly； but that is the last and only step we'll promise on。 It's just a necessity of being
part of the industry。 Everyone wants CDs。 But the
multitrack and the mixdown to two…track is analog。 And we could afford it； Mr。 Loski； because
we got used gear and we've been saving up our
pennies since we were twelve years old。” He grins and says； “You still play？ We could； you
know； lay down some of your tunes if you want。”
My dad looks down； and for a second I couldn't tell if he was going to get mad or cry。 Then
he sort of snorts and says； “Thanks； but that's not me
anymore。”
Which was probably the only honest thing my dad said all night。 After that he was quiet。 He'd
try to plaster up a smile now and then； but man；
underneath it he was broody。 And I was feeling kind of bad for him。 Was he thinking about
the good old days playing in a band？ I tried picturing him
in cowboy boots and a cowboy hat； with a guitar strapped across his shoulder； playing some
old Willie Nelson song。
He was right — it just wasn't him。
But the fact that it ever had been made me feel even more like a stranger in a strange land。
Then； when the night was over and the Bakers were
piling out the front door； something else strange happened。 Juli touched my arm。 And for the
first time that night she was looking at me。 It was that
look； too； channeled directly and solely at me。 She says； “I'm sorry I was so angry when we
first came in。 Everyone had a good time； and I think your
mom's really nice for inviting us。”
Her voice ost a whisper。 I just stood there like a moron； staring at her。
“Bryce？” she says； touching my arm again。 “Did you hear me？ I'm sorry。”
I managed a nod； but my arm was tingling； and my heart was pounding； and I felt myself
pulling toward her。
Then she was gone。 Out the door and into the night； part of a chorus of happy good…byes。 I
tried to catch my breath。 What was that？ What was
wrong with me？
My mother closed the door and said； “There。 Now what did I tell you？ That is one delightful
family！ Those boys are nothing like I expected。 Lyta；
why didn't you tell me they were so…so charming！”
“They're drug dealers is what they are。”
Everyone turned to my father and dropped their jaws。
“What？” my mother said。
“There is no other way those boys could afford to buy recording gear like that。” He glared at
Lyta。 “Isn't that so？”
Lyta's eyes looked like they were going to pop right out of her head。
“Rick； please！” my mother said。 “You can't just make accusations like that！”
“It's the only thing that makes sense； Patsy。 Believe me； I know how musicians are。 There is
no other explanation for this。”
Lyta shouted； “I happen to know for a fact that they don't use or deal。 Where do you get
off saying something like that？ You are such a twofaced；
……… Page 69………
condescending； narrow…minded jackass！”
There was a split second of silence； and then he slapped her； smack； right across the cheek。
That put my mother in his face like I'd never seen and sent my sister screaming insults over
her shoulder as she ran down to her room。
My heart was pounding。 Lyta was right and I almost； almost got in his face； too； and told
him so。 But then my granddad pulled me aside and
we both retreated to our own little corners of the house。
Pacing around my room； I had the urge to go talk to Lyta。 To tell her that she was right；
that Dad was way out of line。 But I could hear her
through the walls； crying and screaming while my mom tried to calm her down。 Then she
stormed out of the house to who…knows…where； and my
mom took up with my dad again。
So I stayed put。 And even though the earth quit quaking around eleven o'clock； there were
tremors out there。 I could feel them。
As I lay in my bed staring out the window at the sky； I thought about how my dad had always
looked down on the Bakers。 How he'd put down their
house and their yard and their cars and what they did for a living。 How he'd called them trash
and made fun of Mr。 Baker's paintings。
And now I was seeing that there was something really cool about that family。 All of them。
They were just…real。
And who were we？ There was something spinning wickedly out of control inside this house。
It was like seeing inside the Bakers' world had
opened up windows into our own； and the view was not a pretty one。
Where had all this stuff e from？
And why hadn't I ever seen it before。
The Dinner
By the time I got home； I knew it would be selfish of me to boycott the Loskis' dinner party。
My mother had already spent a lot of time humming over
pie recipes and going through her closet for “something suitable to wear。” She'd even bought
a new shirt for Dad and had scrutinized what the boys
intended to wear。 Obviously she was looking forward to the dinner— not that I really
understood that； but I didn't want to ruin everything by telling her
about my newfound hatred of Bryce。
And Dad felt bad enough about David already。 The last thing he needed was to hear about
crackpot ments made by immature eighth
graders。
So that night I went through the motions of baking pies with my mother and convinced myself
that I was doing the right thing。 One dinner couldn't
change anyone's life。 I just had to get through it。
Friday at school I avoided the blue…eyed brat the best I could； but that night as I got dressed；
I found myself staring at the painting my father had
given me and became furious all over again。 Bryce had never been a friend to me； ever！ He
hadn't made a stand for the tree； he'd thrown away my
eggs； and he'd made fun of me at my uncle's expense…。 Why was I playing along like we
were jolly friends and neighbors？
When my mother called that it was time to go； I went out in the hall with every intention of
telling her that I would not； could not go to the Loskis' for
dinner； but she looked so lovely and happy that I couldn't。 I just couldn't。 I took a deep breath；
wrapped up a pie； and shuffled across the street
behind my brothers and parents。
Chet answered the door。 Maybe I should've been mad at him； too； for telling the Loskis about
my uncle； but I wasn't。 I hadn't asked him not to tell；
and he certainly wasn't the one