Derek took us to the usual meeting room. It was empty.

We sat at the table. My mom kept looking over at me. I could tell Kate wanted to say something, but she didn’t.

“Well, isn’t this a lovely surprise,” said my dad from the doorway. Derek stood right behind him.

My dad didn’t look good. He was pale and his stomach looked bigger. He looked older than he used to. His whiskers weren’t the cool kind, but more like the too-tired-to-shave kind.

I felt sort of sick looking at him because now he looked like he should be in a treatment center. I wished I was somewhere else. This was a mistake.

I could tell my mom didn’t like the look of him either.

That made me feel even worse.

“Rodney would like to speak to you,” said my mom. “He’s ready.”

“Look, darling, I don’t know if this is a good time. I was in the middle of someth—”

“Your TV show can wait,” said Derek. He squeezed my dad’s shoulder.

“He’s ready and that’s what matters,” said my mom when it looked like my dad was going to turn around and leave.

My dad sagged a little more. “It might be useful to have a counsel—”

“You can handle this, Jeremy. Kate and I will wait outside.”

Then she got up and so did Kate. My mom walked past my dad without looking at him, but Kate gave his shoulder a pat. That also made me sort of sad.

“Jeremy, let me know if you need anything. And the counselor will be ready to speak to you afterward,” said Derek from the doorway.

My dad sighed again. “That won’t be necessary. But thank you. I can take it from here.”

I felt almost dizzy. This was worse than when I jumped off the cliff with Ben. Worse than when Ben and Fisherman started shooting with the gun. But it wasn’t worse than seeing King lying there and thinking he’d been shot. It also wasn’t worse than having the reporters come to my school.

“Well, chum,” said my dad, and I stared at him due to Chum being Fisherman’s nickname. I almost forgot that when my dad’s uncomfortable he calls people chum because he’s English.

“I don’t like being called that,” I said.

His mouth dropped open. His lips looked dry. He wasn’t used to me telling him what I liked and didn’t like. None of us did that with my dad. I never noticed that before.

He rubbed a hand over his scruffy cheeks. “I’m sorry, Rodney. Of course not. How are things? Your mother holding up all right? Kate?”

I didn’t say anything.

He cleared his throat. I waited.

“I gather the time is ripe for some, uh, explanations.”

His eyes were bloodshot. He yawned, which was really strange.