Just Like a Man Read Online Free PDF Page B

too, that whole sordid chap-ter of his life might never have happened. Of course, then he wouldn't have Alex, but that was one of those cosmic
thangs
best not thought too much about.
    "Look, just watch what you say at school, all right?" he told his son as he unlocked the back door of the Volvo and opened it. "The last thing we need to do is to bring attention to ourselves."
    "I didn't lie," Alex said as he tucked himself into the car and slung the seat belt over himself. "Everything I said was true."
    Michael nodded morosely as he closed the door behind his son and circled the car to the driver's side. Yeah, he knew his son had been telling the truth about everything.
    That, of course, was the problem.
----
Chapter 2

     
     
    Although Hannah had never had what one might call a normal upbringing—hoo-boy, was that an understatement—she had watched enough television as a girl to know that even the most upper-crustiest private schools had secret societies and ancient taboo traditions that harked back to a time when politically incorrect thinking had led to despicable behaviors. They were cruel, shadowy customs that put mascot-stealing to shame, practices that no right-thinking person would, in this day and age, tolerate or condone, yet somehow they had survived and even flourished. The Emerson Academy was no exception. It, too, had a dirty little secret tradition that Hannah had learned about immediately after beginning her stint as director, an archaic, loathsome annual ritual she detested and in no way endorsed. But it was a custom, a school
tradition,
one staunchly defended by both the students and parents of Emerson. Generations of school directors before her had been forced to tolerate it, and as much as she would have loved to squash the heinous practice, the very mention of abolishing it had been met with boos and hisses and how-dare-you's. A good number of the Emerson parents—and even grandparents—were Emerson alumni, after all. And tradition was everything at Emerson.
    So as heinous, archaic, and loathsome as Hannah found the custom, she had no choice but to tolerate the ugliness again this year. Worse than tolerate it. She would have to, as she had before,
participate
in the hideous affair. All the Emerson directors had been forced to participate. So she had no choice but to suffer through yet another…
    Potluck dinner.
    Oh, just the thought of the abuse that lay ahead made her flesh crawl.
    And it wasn't just one potluck dinner, as if that would have been odious enough. No, there were
thirteen
of them she was required to attend, for kindergarten through twelfth grade, two to four per month throughout the first half of the school year. Thankfully, she wouldn't be expected to take part in the most abominable rite of the custom—bringing a covered dish—but just having to be present was repugnant enough. One could only make so much chitchat, after all. And one could only handle so many minutes—nay, so many
seconds
—in the presence of several of the Emerson parents.
    It was something of a paradox—among other things, but those things were identified with words best not used by someone who worked with children, so
paradox
was what Hannah decided to go with. Although she would have loved to see more parent participation at the school, there were a number of Emerson parents—quite a large number, in fact—with whom she would rather not participate personally. And several of them would be attending the evening's horror—ah, dinner—though not so much because they were school-minded, but rather because there would be a decent wine selection. Nevertheless, Hannah would be expected to chitchat with
all
of the parents who attended tonight's function. And she would have to
like
it.
    Nothing like coming home from work after staying late on a Friday,
she thought as she entered her house after coming home from work late on a Friday,
and having to go back to work.
    Because even though tonight's potluck—for the