“What news?” My jaw tenses and I wish he’d stop. We don’t have to say anything.

“About the principal.” He drops his hand into his lap and looks me in the eye. “Your principal from that… fucking nightmare.” My dad’s voice cracks.

I look back at him, my expression blank. That’s a habit that came with me from that place, I’ll probably never get rid of it. It’s not smart to let anything show. My default is no expression at all. They taught me that.

My dad’s jaw works, the look in his eyes changing. He doesn’t like it when I look at him like this. He’s said so before. But he won’t like it any better if I try to change my face.

I won’t, anyway. I can’t.

“He’s dead.”

He’s dead. The words land on the worn-out carpet like dust. My heart ticks up a little faster. It doesn’t stay that way. My dad’s not telling me anything I don’t already know. Memories of that man’s face come up like they happened yesterday, but I push them back down. He had the kind of face you could see anywhere, on any guy you passed on the street. That’s the kind of face you can’t get away from, even if you forget what he looks like.

I haven’t forgotten any of it.

My dad hasn’t looked away from me. He’s waiting for an answer, some kind of response. The air between us is tense. He wants something out of this but I don’t know what. He probably wants me to be the same kid I was before he sent me to that place. He’s said it before. How much he regrets it.

“Mr. Jay?” he nudges the suggestion. “The principal of that boarding school you went to?” He tries to get me to remember or acknowledge anything.

I bury more memories of that asshole and the screaming and punishments and sitting up straight. The fact that he’s dead has nothing to do with me.

I bury more memories of the building, and how, when I finally left, I didn’t think the outside world was real. I spent years waiting to be taken back and put in those same rooms and left there for the rest of my life.

“He wasn’t my principal,” I say finally. I want him to drop this. I know he can tell. “It wasn’t a real school Dad, remember?” I tell him flatly, easily. Like I’m unbothered.

He nods and opens his mouth like he might say more, but he doesn’t.