Then the bell rang and the floodgates were turned loose. Hordes of students streamed out from doorways and hallways, walking, running, talking, screaming. Individuals separated from the crowd, moving toward their parents’ cars. A large contingent headed over to the two waiting school buses. Others started walking home in pairs or small groups.

He looked for Tony, tried to spot his son’s face amid the sea of similar-looking students, and finally saw him walking alone toward the car. One skinhead near the administration building halfheartedly threw a Coke can, yelling, “Pussy! Going to ride home with your daddy and your mommy?” but Daniel pretended he didn’t hear it for Tony’s sake and smiled as his son got into the car. “How was school?” he asked.

“Great,” Tony said sarcastically.

Daniel laughed at the boy’s tone of voice. “Well, at least it’s Friday.”

“Yeah,” he said. “At least it’s Friday.”

They did not talk on the way home. Daniel got into an old Joe Jackson song on the radio, listening to the lyrics, singing along in his head, remembering when that album had first come out, and it wasn’t until they were pulling into the driveway that he realized he and Tony had not spoken since leaving the school. He glanced over at his son. “Is everything all right?”

Tony nodded.

“You sure? Nothing you want to talk about?”

“No.” Tony grabbed his books, got out of the car.

Daniel followed the boy into the house. Margot wasn’t home yet, but she’d be back from work within the next hour, and he decided to start making dinner. She had a series of stressful meetings today and though she’d told him she’d fix something when she got home, he thought it would be a nice surprise if he made dinner tonight, gave her a little treat.

He looked through Margot’s cookbooks, looked through the refrigerator and cupboards to see what they had, and finally decided on a hamburger casserole from Julia Child. The instructions classified it as a “quick and easy” dish, estimated preparation time fifteen minutes, but he knew himself and he figured he’d be lucky if he finished within the hour.

Tony plopped his books down on the kitchen counter and grabbed a can of Dr Pepper from the refrigerator before heading off toward his bedroom.

“Homework!” Daniel called out.

“It’s Friday!”

“Do it today and your weekend will be free.”

“I’ll do it Sunday.”

Daniel thought of arguing with him, but decided to let the boy go. He picked up the books from the counter and carried them into the living room, where he placed them on the coffee table on top of the pile of today’s newspapers.