The Amazing Mona had arranged an eight-week trip to France and Italy, departing after the school year ended in June. She and the girls had been to Europe when she was married to her former husband, and now she wanted to relive the joys of foreign travel with Lionel in tow. Lionel saw the trip as an opportunity to do research for a book on the lesser-known American expatriates writing in Paris after World War I. In May of Jon’s senior year at Santa Teresa High, his academic performance was still so poor that it was clear he wasn’t going to graduate. As a consequence, he was excluded from the family vacation.

He was three credits short of what was required for his diploma and he’d managed to exasperate just about everyone, including his English teacher, Mr. Snow, who snagged him one afternoon after class. Mr. Snow was thirty-five years old, dedicated and energetic, new to Santa Teresa High School, where he taught English and creative writing. He’d had two novels published and he was working on his third. He perched on the edge of his desk, with his grade book open in front of him. He ran his finger down the column of Jon’s classroom grades, many of which read “incomplete.” He shook his head while Jon sat in the front row, posing as a kid busy contemplating his sins.

Mr. Snow said, “I don’t know what to do with you, Jon. This class is an elective. This is all you needed to graduate and you blew it. You’re a bright kid and you write well—when and if you get around to do it. You might even have some talent lurking in that thick skull of yours. If you’d done even half the assignments, you’d have passed with no problem. Why are you doing this?”

Jon shrugged. “The topics are boring. I can’t relate.”

“You can’t relate. Are you kidding me?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Where’s this horseshit coming from? That’s what I don’t get. You did well at Climp, until your junior year. I know because I called the school and checked. Now your GPA is in the toilet. I don’t think you’ve lost any IQ points, so what gives?”

Jon shrugged. He kept his eyes pinned on Mr. Snow’s but his expression was blank.

Mr. Snow stared at him. “Are you having problems at home?”

“Not really.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

Mr. Snow closed his eyes for a beat and tried another tack. “You have plans for college?”

“City College maybe. I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, you better pull your thumb out. If you don’t get into some college, you risk being called up.”

“I thought they were mostly taking older guys.”