reminded me. Thursday was his. We’d agreed.
“But the top ten is a special today,” I complained. “This month’s mystery host is going to be on.” I wanted to relaxbefore dinner the way I wanted to relax. I couldn’t explain why exactly, but I was in a bad mood, and it mattered.
“That’s not a special,” Jack said. “That happens every month. And it’s never a mystery anyway. It’s whoever won last month’s vote. Just watch this with me. You might like it.”
I hated those old movies. I hated subtitles. They make you work too hard. I didn’t want to work.
“If I wanted to read,” I told him, “I’d get a book.”
And then I went to my room, mad at him and mad at the small screen on my dresser and just mad.
Later, at the kitchen table, my father said, “So, tell me something you learned today, Anna.” Ever since I’d woken up, I’d had a feeling he might ask that night. You never knew exactly when he would, but it had been a bunch of days. You always had to be prepared. Only somehow, no matter how prepared you were, it never went well.
“Fractions,” I said.
“What do you mean, ‘fractions’?” my dad asked. “There’s a lot of different elements to fractions.”
“I learned that if you add fractions, you have to find the same numerator.”
My father was serving himself rice. He stopped with the serving spoon in mid dump. “I hope you didn’t learn that,” he said.
My brain started blinking. “That’s what we learned.” I was pretty sure I was right, even though my father was already making it seem like I was wrong.
“I hope not,” my father said. “Think about it.” He put the serving bowl back down on its hot pad.
I felt my mind go fuzzy. “If you add fractions, you have to find the same numerator,” I said again.
My father placed his fork on his plate, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and glared at me. “Why are you repeating the same incorrect information?” He had that irritated tone of voice. The tone that comes right before the mad one, and the yelling.
“That’s what we learned,” I insisted, only now I wasn’t so certain, and the fuzziness got fuzzier.
“Harvey,” my mom said.
“Think about it again, Anna,” he ordered. “Put down your glass, straighten yourself up in your seat, and take a minute to think.”
So I put down my glass without drinking, and then I couldn’t think at all. I was sure I had it right. I remembered learning it and practicing it and planning that it was what I would say if he asked the question that night. Only, now it wasn’t right.
“I’m thinking,” I said. Was it a trick question? “But that’s what I learned.”
“She meant denominator,” Jack mumbled.
“Why?” my father asked him. Jack looked down at his plate. The vein in my father’s temple pulsed. “Why do you do it?”
Jack kept looking at his plate. I was so thirsty.
“You could see that I was trying to help Anna figure something out for herself, couldn’t you?” my dad asked, only it wasn’t a question. Jack looked up at him and then back down again. “Why did you interfere?” With my dad looking at Jack, I figured it was safe to pick up my glass. I did. I drank.
“Is this really necessary?” my mom tried. But Dad never listens to her.
“Well, what did you learn today?” my father asked Jack. “Since you’re eager to share what you know.”
I took another drink, glad he wasn’t on me anymore.
“I learned that sometimes a script is better if there’s not very much dialogue in it.”
My father stared at Jack. “What?”
“Did you ever see The Four Hundred Blows ?” Jack asked. “I learned that less dialogue is better from watching The Four Hundred Blows today, plus from watching some other films this week and thinking about it a lot.”
“You watched another movie?” my dad said. “What have I told you about watching all that TV?”
“It wasn’t TV,” Jack said. “And I did my homework first.”
“Did you
“But the top ten is a special today,” I complained. “This month’s mystery host is going to be on.” I wanted to relaxbefore dinner the way I wanted to relax. I couldn’t explain why exactly, but I was in a bad mood, and it mattered.
“That’s not a special,” Jack said. “That happens every month. And it’s never a mystery anyway. It’s whoever won last month’s vote. Just watch this with me. You might like it.”
I hated those old movies. I hated subtitles. They make you work too hard. I didn’t want to work.
“If I wanted to read,” I told him, “I’d get a book.”
And then I went to my room, mad at him and mad at the small screen on my dresser and just mad.
Later, at the kitchen table, my father said, “So, tell me something you learned today, Anna.” Ever since I’d woken up, I’d had a feeling he might ask that night. You never knew exactly when he would, but it had been a bunch of days. You always had to be prepared. Only somehow, no matter how prepared you were, it never went well.
“Fractions,” I said.
“What do you mean, ‘fractions’?” my dad asked. “There’s a lot of different elements to fractions.”
“I learned that if you add fractions, you have to find the same numerator.”
My father was serving himself rice. He stopped with the serving spoon in mid dump. “I hope you didn’t learn that,” he said.
My brain started blinking. “That’s what we learned.” I was pretty sure I was right, even though my father was already making it seem like I was wrong.
“I hope not,” my father said. “Think about it.” He put the serving bowl back down on its hot pad.
I felt my mind go fuzzy. “If you add fractions, you have to find the same numerator,” I said again.
My father placed his fork on his plate, wiped his mouth with his napkin, and glared at me. “Why are you repeating the same incorrect information?” He had that irritated tone of voice. The tone that comes right before the mad one, and the yelling.
“That’s what we learned,” I insisted, only now I wasn’t so certain, and the fuzziness got fuzzier.
“Harvey,” my mom said.
“Think about it again, Anna,” he ordered. “Put down your glass, straighten yourself up in your seat, and take a minute to think.”
So I put down my glass without drinking, and then I couldn’t think at all. I was sure I had it right. I remembered learning it and practicing it and planning that it was what I would say if he asked the question that night. Only, now it wasn’t right.
“I’m thinking,” I said. Was it a trick question? “But that’s what I learned.”
“She meant denominator,” Jack mumbled.
“Why?” my father asked him. Jack looked down at his plate. The vein in my father’s temple pulsed. “Why do you do it?”
Jack kept looking at his plate. I was so thirsty.
“You could see that I was trying to help Anna figure something out for herself, couldn’t you?” my dad asked, only it wasn’t a question. Jack looked up at him and then back down again. “Why did you interfere?” With my dad looking at Jack, I figured it was safe to pick up my glass. I did. I drank.
“Is this really necessary?” my mom tried. But Dad never listens to her.
“Well, what did you learn today?” my father asked Jack. “Since you’re eager to share what you know.”
I took another drink, glad he wasn’t on me anymore.
“I learned that sometimes a script is better if there’s not very much dialogue in it.”
My father stared at Jack. “What?”
“Did you ever see The Four Hundred Blows ?” Jack asked. “I learned that less dialogue is better from watching The Four Hundred Blows today, plus from watching some other films this week and thinking about it a lot.”
“You watched another movie?” my dad said. “What have I told you about watching all that TV?”
“It wasn’t TV,” Jack said. “And I did my homework first.”
“Did you
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