There was the usual list of Do This, Do That from his mother—weed the garden, sweep the front stoop, mop the kitchen, wax the banisters—but he had something else to do first. Something he’d been putting off. Taking a deep breath, he pulled up at the hall table with a fresh sheet of paper and wrote: Dear Dad, I won’t be writing to you anymore. I guess you aren’t interested in hearing from me, since you don’t write back. I wish you’d come home, but I guess you aren’t interested in doing that either. Thirteen’s a little young to start being the man of the house, but that doesn’t mean I can’t do
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