Click Here to Start by Denis Markell Page B

you guys tomorrow morning, when the Goodwill people are here,” Isabel calls over her shoulder, trying to intercept him. But Graham is too quick for her.
    “That’s what I like to hear!” Graham beams happily, then turns to my mom. “She needed a little convincing to come back, but I felt—”
    “Father. Let’s go.” Isabel, for the first time, actually looks uncomfortable.
    “Righto. We’re off! Great seeing you again, Amanda!”
    As they pull out, I can see Isabel sitting, arms crossed, her mouth set in a tight line.

At dinner tonight, all the talk is again about Isabel. And St. Anselm’s, her old school.
    “Lila called today!” exclaims Dad. “She says there are a bunch of kids at Harvard from St. Anselm’s. Apparently it’s one of the finest private schools in New York.”
    “Well, if
Lila
is impressed…,” I snort.
    “Yeah, she kept going on about how all these celebrities send their kids there, and how all these other famous people actually went there…fashion designers, actors, novelists….Not only that, but half the people who write for the
New Yorker
are school parents: authors, artists, you name it.”
    “I wonder why Graham is sending her to La Purisma,” my mom muses. “I mean, it’s not exactly—”
    “Hey! La Purisma is a great school!”
    “Since when do
you
like your school?” asks Mom pointedly. “I seem to remember someone describing it as a waste of time,” she adds, wiping her chin.
    “Maybe Ted is getting his priorities straight this summer,” my dad says, smiling at me.
    “Yeah, maybe I am,” I respond, gazing at my dad with what I hope looks like admiration and maturity.
    “I see!” Mom regards me with a weird grin on her face I swear I’ve never seen before. “Speaking of your priorities, Isabel seems like a very nice girl.”
    OMG.
    “For crying out loud, Mom!” I say. “Can we give this a rest!”
    “All right, I’ll change the subject,” says Dad agreeably.
    “Thank you,” I say gratefully.
    “Aren’t you going to thank me for inviting Isabel to help out? It sounds like that extra pair of hands really made a difference.”
    “Thanks for changing the subject,
Dad,
” I answer. “Yes, having an extra person was great. Especially when Mom called and said the Goodwill people are coming in the morning.”
    “Don’t tell me you got everything packed up this afternoon?” Mom asks incredulously.
    “Well,” I say, trying to sound casual, “ ‘the prospect of being hanged focuses the mind wonderfully.’ ”
    Dad’s eyes pop open. “I am impressed. Nice quote.”
    “I don’t play computer games
all the time,
” I say modestly.
    Dad nods appreciatively. “So do you know who said it?”
    “What?” I answer.
    “I just wondered if you know who said the original quote.”
    Darn! I should remember this.
    “That’s okay,” Dad says gently. “It was Samuel Johnson. But it’s great that you know it. Did you learn that from Isabel?” he adds, as if somehow this is going to make it better.
    “If he did, that’s fine,” says Mom, beginning to clear away the dishes.
    I get up to help. Anything to get away from this conversation.
    Dad, ever the professor, calls after me, “Oh, and you can tell her when you see her, the actual quote is ‘Depend upon it, sir, when a man knows he is to be hanged in a fortnight, it concentrates his mind wonderfully.’ ”
    My mom turns, remembering something. “By the way, did you find anything for Mr. Yamada?”
    “Mr. Who?”
    “Mr. Yamada!” Mom says, her teeth set in frustration. “The man who used to visit Uncle Ted every day? His daughter wanted you to find something from the store?”
    “Ohhh…right…his old customer…” The matchbooks! I was so focused on the game, I totally forgot to take them!
    “Was there anything in that shopping bag?” Mom asks.
    “Nah, it’s just magazines, like I said,” I answer quickly. “I’m sorry, Mom. But we put aside some matchbooks for him. When the