“What’s the point?” I started to ask, but Pop let out a sigh of frustration and snatched the open booklet right out of Luca’s hands.

Luca stared at Pop in surprise. “Jeff! What is your problem?” He said it so quietly it made the skin on the back of my neck tingle.

Pop shook his head angrily, staring at the table. “It’s my mail, addressed to me, and I say we’re done talking about it, okay?” He shoved the booklet to the end of the table—but he didn’t throw it away like he’d told me to.

“Geez, Jeff—if you’d just—” Luca started to say, but Pop lifted his head to give Luca one clear shake, and I thought I saw his eyes bounce to me and then away.

Luca sighed and ran a hand over his face like he could smooth his frown away. He turned to me. “Why don’t you go and get ready for bed, Freddo? Jeff and I will stay up and finish all this.”

I opened my mouth but Pop cut me off. “You heard your father,” he said, and I pushed my chair back a little more forcefully than I needed to, then mumbled, “Good night” to the two of them.

Just as I got to my room, I heard Luca roughly whisper, “Is there anything you want to tell me?”

I stood in my doorway, waiting for Pop’s reply. But instead he called, “Good night, Winifred!” like he knew I was waiting and listening.

When I closed my door, I couldn’t hear any more, and never knew what Pop’s reply was.

36

Parents Are Not Always Right

It felt like we were crawling to the end of July. And, as expected, Aidan’s dad forbade him to play in the Albanians vs. Australians soccer game that was coming up, and for all the reasons Aidan guessed.

The more that people around town talked about the possibility that the refugees might stay here past November, the more Mr. McMillan seemed to be stuck in his ways. He even had a letter to the editor published in the local paper, where he said: “Charity begins at home, and Australia has its own less fortunate to put first.”

We all thought Aidan had given up on the game, but then Mr. Khouri asked him for his permission slip to play.

“Right here, sir,” Aidan said, and he pulled the piece of paper from his backpack.

Mr. Khouri’s eyebrows went up as he smiled. “We’re lucky to have you playing for Australia,” he said.

We four waited until we were outside the school gates before we turned on Aidan.

“What the—? Your dad didn’t sign that!” Jed said.

Aidan looked down at his feet and kicked a stone down the footpath. “No, but I did.”

“You forged your dad’s signature?” Keira yanked on Aidan’s arm to make him stop walking.