I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “Did Mom put you up to this? We are definitely not having this conversation.”

“I’m just trying to bond with my son,” he says as I slam the passenger door behind me.

“Then take me shopping!” I tromp up the stairs and Tucker is already waiting for me. He’s changed since this afternoon. Now he wears light-wash jeans that are forever stained with dirt, oil, and paint, with heavy work boots like the kind my dad has always worn and a faded Texas A&M T-shirt.

“I come bearing gifts of leftover casserole and homework,” I announce. “Indeed. I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s cheese.”

“Don’t mind if I do,” he says as he takes the food from me and pops it in the microwave, which is pretty gross on the inside and has definitely seen its fair share of exploded lunches. He punches a few buttons and then turns back to me. “So, we have one project down and one to go. The faculty were super into it. And, of course, homework.”

“None of them were really into doing my customer service survey,” I tell him, tucking my chin into my shoulder, like I’m emotionally wounded.

“Oh, come on now.” He moves to the other side of the room where I am, leans up against the counter next to me so that our shoulders are brushing, and crosses one leg over the other. “It was less a survey and more you cornering staff members and asking them how likely they were to vote for either one of us on a scale of one to ten.”

“There was a very nice mint in it for them if they answered. Those white puffy soft ones.”

He patronizes me with a sliver of a smile and a nod. “Those mints do get me every time. But teachers want the day to be over more than students do,” he says. “We still have to plan our legacy project. This one’s gotta be huge, though,” he says. “Like, think viral.”

I groan. “I hate that it’s called a legacy project. It makes it sound like we’re dying.” I fall silent for a moment, trying to think of something. “I don’t know. I mean, we could build a bench. Or, like, get the broken vending machines fixed. Or paint some dumb mural with a bunch of kids holding hands around the world.”

He shakes his head. “What’s something that would have changed your whole experience at school? The kind of thing that would’ve helped you leave this place with close to zero regrets?”