a couple of guys who pinched my cheeks and called
me baby brother。
I took a deep breath and tried to relax。 Tried to dive down to calmer water。 This wasn't my
fight。
Besides； Matt and Mike seemed cool with it。 “Oh； no；” they said。 “College is a total
possibility。” “Yeah； we got accepted a couple of places； but
we're going to give the music thing a shot first。”
“Oh； the music thing；” my father says。
……… Page 67………
Matt and Mike look at each other； then shrug and get back to eating。 But Lyta glares at
him and says； “Your sarcasm is not appreciated； Dad。”
“Lyn； Lyn；” says Matt…or…Mike。 “It's cool。 Everyone's like that about it。 It's a show…me…don't…
tell…me thing。”
“That's a great idea；” Lyta says； jumping out of her seat and dashing down the hall。
Mom freezes； not sure what to do about Lyta； but then Mrs。 Baker says； “Dinner is
absolutely delicious； Patsy。”
“Thanks； Trina。 It's … it's nice to have all of you over。”
There's about three seconds of quiet and then Lyta es in and jabs at the CD player
buttons until the drawer slides back in。
“Lyn； no！ Not a good idea；” says Matt…or…Mike。 “Yeah； Lyn。 It's not exactly dinner music。”
“Tough；” says Lyta； and cranks the volume。
Boom； whack！ Boom…boom； whack！ The candles practically shake in their holders； then
guitars rip through the air and about blow them out。 Matt
and Mike look up at the speakers； then grin at each other and call over to my dad； “Surround
sound — awesome setup； Mr。 Loski！”
All the adults were dying to jump up and turn the thing down； but Lyta stood guard and
just glowered at them。 And when the song's over；
Lyta pulls out the CD； punches off the player； and then smiles — actually smiles — at
Matt and Mike and says； “That is the raddest song。 I want
to hear it again and again and again。”
Matt…or…Mike says to my dad； “You probably don't like it； but it's what we do。”
“You boys wrote that song？”
“Uh…huh。”
He motions Lyta to pass the CD over； saying； “Just the one song？”
Matt…or…Mike laughs and says； “Dude； we've got a thousand songs； but there's only three on
the demo。”
Dad holds up the CD。 “This is the demo？”
“Yeah。”
He looks at it a minute and says； “So if you're Piss Poor； how do you afford to press CDs？”
“Dad！” Lyta snaps at him。
“It's okay； Lyn。 Just a joke； right； Mr。 Loski？”
My dad laughs a little and says； “Right；” but then adds； “Although I am a little curious。 This is
obviously not a home…done demo； and I happen to
know studio time's cost…prohibitive for most bands…。”
Matt and Mike interrupt him with a slamming hard high five。 And while I'm getting uptight
about my dad asking them questions about money； of all
things； my mom's fumbling all over herself； trying to sweep away my dad's big pawprints。
“When Rick and I met； he was playing in a band…。”
Poached salmon was suddenly swimming down the wrong hatch。 And while I'm choking；
Lyta's bugging out her raccoon eyes； gasping； “You？
Played in a band？ What did you play； clari？”
“No； honey；” my mom says； trying to hold it all together。 “Your father played guitar。”
“Guitar？”
“Cool！” Matt…or…Mike says。 “Rock？ Country？ Jazz？”
“Country；” my dad says。 “Which is nothing to scoff at； boys。”
“Dude！ We know。 Total respect； man。”
“And when our band looked into getting a demo made； it was astronomically expensive。 That
was in a big city； where there was a little
petition。 Getting a demo made around here？ I didn't even know there was a facility。”
Matt and Mike are still grinning。 “There's not。”
“So where'd you go？ And how'd you afford it？” My mother whacks him under the table again；
so he says； “I'm just curious； Patsy！”
Matt and Mike lean in。 “We did it ourselves。”
……… Page 68………
“This right here？ You did this yourselves？ That's impossible。” He's looking almost mad about
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