he　shoulder　again　and　kept　walking。

？Hello？？

？Congratulations；　Danielson！？　Rufus　shouted　into　the　phone。　His　father　never　got　out　of　bed

before　eight　o？clock；　so　this　was　the　first　time　Dan　had　spoken　to　him　all　morning。　？You？re　the

real　banana；　the　genuine　article！The　New　Yorker　；　the　goddamnedNew　Yorker　！？

Dan　chuckled；　feeling　slightly　ashamed。　Countless　notebooks　filled　with　his　father？s　odd；

disjointed　poems　were　stashed　in　a　dusty　box　in　the　broom　closet。　Even　though　he　was　an　editor　of

lesser…known　Beat　poets；　the　truth　was；　Rufus　had　never　actually　been　published。

？And　you？ll　never　believe？；？　Rufus　continued；　but　then　his　voice　broke　off。　Dan　heard　the　toilet

flush　in　the　background。　Typical。　His　dad　had　been　talking　to　him　while　he　was　in　the　can。

Dan　gulped　his　coffee　and　picked　up　his　pace；　crossing　Broadway　and　heading　down

Seventy…seventh　Street。　He　was　going　to　be　late　for　first…period　chemistry　if　he　didn？t　hurry　up。

Not　that　that　would　be　such　a　bad　thing。　？Dad？　You　still　there？？　he　asked。

？Hold　on；　kid；？　Rufus　replied　distractedly。　？I　got　my　hands　full　here。？

Dan　could　picture　his　dad　drying　his　hands　on　the　frayed　red　towel　hanging　on　the　back　of　the

bathroom　door　and　then　pulling　his　rolled…up　copy　ofThe　New　Yorker　out　from　under　his　hairy

arm　so　he　could　read　Dan？s　poem　again。

？The　deans　of　admissions　from　Brown　and　Columbia　just　called　to　tell　me　what　a　prodigy　you

are；？　Rufus　explained。　It　sounded　like　his　mouth　was　full　of　something；　and　Dan　could　hear　water

running。　Was　he　brushing　his　teeth？　？They　were　slobbering　all　over　themselves；　the　greedy

bastards。？

？Brown　and　Columbia？　Really？？　Dan　repeated　in