“What has your father said about his crimes?”

“Is he worried about so many women pressing charges?”

“Is it true he’s tried to apologize to Missy Stephenson?”

“When’s the last time you saw your father? How’s he doing?”

“What about the allegations from employees?”

The lady and her cameraman got ahead of me so they were blocking the way. I turned and ran right into a wall of people. I couldn’t see my mom anymore, or our car. I turned around again just in time to see someone knock the shiny lady and the camera guy and a bunch of other people out of the way.

It was Chum! I mean, Fisherman! He was practically as big as the cameraman and he said “scram” or some other small-town thing that means get lost. Then he called them “stupid lamestream media.” Then he picked me up again and carried me into the school. My own dad hasn’t carried me as much as Fisherman has in the last few weeks. It’s probably not too manly to mention it, but it is interesting.

This time, he didn’t run out the other end of the school with me and try to head-slam me into the soccer net at the far end of the field. He put me down outside the nurse’s office, like he wasn’t sure I could stand on my own. I wasn’t so sure about that either because my knees started to shake.

I just kind of wobbled there for a while.

“Okay, Rod?” he asked. I don’t love the name Rod, but it’s better than his nickname, so I didn’t correct him.

I nodded.

“Fake media are scum,” he said. “All liars.”

There was a time when my dad and I would have laughed our faces off if we heard something like that. My dad told me that only people who have no media literacy think all stories that they don’t agree with are fake news. Media literacy means that you understand about newspapers and TV shows and understand which ones tell true stories using proper journalism and which ones are fake. But times were different. Maybe all those people out there waiting for me and my mom were fake news.

“Is my mom okay?” I asked. I couldn’t believe I’d just left her there.

“She’s okay. When she saw I had you, she drove away,” said Fisherman. Fisherman bent down and got really close to my face. His breath smelled like cereal. I think in future I would like not to smell anyone’s breath. I might be getting a phobia about it.

“Don’t let it get you down, man,” he said.