Chapter 103

Dad won’t talk to me about his illness. If I bring it up, he changes the subject. If I cry, he holds me tight. He most definitely does not get drunk this year.

On Friday, just before the big game, he cups the side of my face with one of his rough palms and gazes lovingly into my eyes. My throat gets tight, and I choke on unshed tears.

“Marnye,” he begins, his voice soft, “you’ve always known what you’ve wanted, even as a little kid. You went through a hard time in middle school, and yet you never stopped fighting. You got this scholarship on your own merit, and you do nothing but continue to exceed my expectations.”

“Dad—” I start, but he cuts me off.

“As a boy, I dreamed of going to a school like this. There was an all-boys academy just outside the town I grew up in called Adamson. I fantasized about going there every day, but I never tried to change my circumstances; I just accepted them.” I try to speak again, but he shushes me gently. “All week, you’ve be