“No,” she said, putting the sauce on simmer and stepping into the living room to sit in the easy chair across from me on the couch. Both of us faced the TV, which, of course, wasn’t working.

“You’d think we could get some kind of news,” she said irritably, hitting a button on the remote and watching an error message pop up on the screen. “Why should the power-plant problems—which supposedly were solved—affect our satellite?”

“I’m sure things will be fine,” I said. “They said everything should be up and running in a week or so.”

“They fed us that line in the camp, too,” she grumbled. “It was always ‘next week’ and ‘shortly’ and ‘as soon as possible.’ Oh, yeah? Define ‘possible.’ We haven’t seen your father in four months, and I had to jump through hoops to get one phone conversation with him every week. Now we’re back, and there’s supposedly no radiation, and everything is safe, so where is he? Why’s he still living at the nuclear plant? It’s a fifteen-minute drive.”

“Well, we did get to come home,” I said. “They didn’t lie about that.”

“They also didn’t tell us that everything in our house and in town would be fixed. They’re very selective about what they tell us.”

“Yeah, it’s terrible that everything got fixed up,” I said.

Mom slapped her hand against the end table. “Okay, smart boy who was chased by a bear and just put two kids into the hospital, you tell me that everything is normal.”

“Everything is normal,” I said.

She shook her head.

“I do what my mother tells me to do!” I protested, putting on a smile and waving jazz hands at her.

“You beat up two big-time athletes from the south side and ended their seasons. You know who else lives on the south side? All the bosses: my boss, your father’s boss, and anyone who has any influence in this town. So keep joking your way through this, and see how that works out.”

Sometimes my mom is where fun goes to die.

“Okay, fine, I feel like crap now,” I said, putting my feet up on the ottoman as Dad usually did when he sat in that chair. “Happy? They started the fight. I defended myself. Would you feel better if I were in the hospital now instead of them?”

“Of course not, you nitwit,” Mom spat out. “And the coach said you didn’t start it. But he also told me you were overly violent and cruel, and that’s not how we raised you.”

“Mom,” I said, holding my hands up, “when have I ever been in a fight before? Do you think I did this on purpose?”

“I think you were tired of those boys bothering you your whole life, and you wanted to hurt them,” she said, popping up the recliner’s footrest.

I sighed. If I’d had time to think about it, I might have reached that very conclusion. But I didn’t have time. They came after me, and I eliminated them as threats, with unplanned/planned precision. It was as simple as that.