“Son,” Dad begins, and I know then that he’s getting deadly serious. The word son usually only comes out of Headmaster Carson’s mouth when he’s in full disciplinary mode. Church is in trouble. “You put a ring on my daughter’s finger without asking my permission—we are not friends.” “Oh my god, you’re such a boomer!” I choke out, falling back into old patterns. With a deep breath, I settle myself and try to resist the flinty glare my father’s just turned on me. “It’s not 1605 anymore. I’m not your possession, and Church doesn’t have to ask you. The only person he had to ask was me.”
