ink　so？？　Uh…oh。

His　father　sat　back　in　his　chair　and　waved　one　hand　in　the　air。　？Let？s　stop　all　the　pussyfooting

around？we？ve　got　some　important　things　to　discuss。？　Nate？s　heart　sank　in　his　chest。　He　dragged　a

scuffed　Stan　Smith　tennis　sneaker　back　and　forth　across　the　Oriental　rug；　knowing　whatthat　meant。

He　squirmed　in　his　chair；　wishing　that　he　was　just　about　anyplace　else？but　most　of　all　that　he　was

out　on　the　water；　with　the　waves　lapping　against　the　sides　of　the　boat。　He　braced　himself；　waiting

nervously　for　his　father　to　speak。

？I？ve　heard　from　Coach　Michaels；　and　I　know　exactly　what？s　going　on。？　Captain　Archibald？s

voice　was　neutral　but　firm；　and　Nate　began　shifting　nervously　again　in　his　chair。　Whenever　his　dad

adopted　this　tone　of　voice；　it　meant　that　he？d　decided　something　with　plete　finality？usually

something　that　Nate　didn？t　want　to　do。　？And　this　time；　I？m　not　bailing　you　out。You？ll　repeat

senior　year　at　St。　Jude？s。　End　of　story。？　Nate　stared　at　him；　openmouthed。　He？d　never　really

considered　that　not　getting　his　diploma　would　mean　he？d　actually　have　torepeat　senior　year。

Maybe　take　a　year　off；　do　some　？munity　service？　building　outhouses　on　a　beach　in　Costa　Rica

or　something；　but　another　year　of　high　school？　Taking　the　same　boring　classes；　doing　the　same

boring　things；　while　his　friends　were　all　off　at　college；　having　fun　without　him？

Next　stop：　total　humiliation。

His　father　took　a　slow；　deliberate　sip　of　scotch；　and　Nate　could　hear　the　frosty　sound　of　ice　cubes

rattling　against　the　crystal。　He　fingered　the　stubbed…out　joint　that　remained　in　his　pocket；　wishing

he　could　pull　it　out　and　light　up　right　there。　He？d　promised　Blair