Chapter 3

His mother starts, “Oh, Jared, I—”

His father holds up a hand and her words cut off in mid-sentence. Those unreadable eyes bore into Jared with all the venom of a prosecuting attorney on cross-examination. “And?”

“Matthew,” Mrs. Harrison tries again, “I think we need to—”

“Zzpt.” He punctuates the sound with a clamping motion of his hand, all four fingers closing down to the thumb to mime a mouth closing. “You said two announcements. What’s the second?”

Jared takes a deep breath. Larry doesn’t know about this because it isn’t true. “I’m thinking of dropping out of school. I’m not sure I’m cut out to be an attorney. I’ve been writing a lot of poetry lately, and thought I’d try to see if I could get any of it published.”

His father’s face goes rigid—Jared doesn’t even think the blood is flowing beneath the skin any longer. Mr. Harrison’s cheeks have drained of all color, and his eyes look almost pained. When he speaks, his voice breaks. “A poet? Christ…”