People don’t change. Especially my dad.

After the craziness of the afternoon, the pulse-pounding insanity of meeting an old high-school sweetheart-turned-supervillain, the adrenaline buzz of almost getting caught while his supposed arch-enemy took him from behind on the supervillain’s car—after a day like none other that Lucas had ever had—coming home wasn’t just a let-down, it felt like being dropped from a high, high cliff.

“You could come in,” he told Ash in the car.

Ash clicked his tongue. “Better not. Your friend Rex might barge in again.”

“God…I need to deal with that situation. I feel so bad about the way I left it with him.”

“I don’t have to drop you off. You could come back to my place. You could…stay the night, if you wanted to.”

Lucas had to laugh at how hesitant Ash sounded. “You don’t sound like you’re sure about that offer.”

Ash grinned and shrugged. “Do you know how infrequently I have people over? I haven’t even been to my place in…two days? Three? Wait, was I there this morning? What has happened to my sense of time?”

“I think we both need some winding down,” said Lucas. “Some time to think.”

But I wish you’d just come in. Someday we have to learn to be a normal couple.

Ash leaned over and kissed Lucas. “I agree. I’ll be honest with you: I don’t know what to do about Ricky. At all. I mean, I’ll have my people try to dig up some dirt, and the lawyers will take a look at everything, but…”

“If our dads want to sell, we can’t stop them,” added Lucas. “We’re just out of luck, if we can’t convince them.”

“Well, don’t give up hope. If all else fails, we’ll drag him down to the quarry and smack him around.”

“Ahh, memories,” said Lucas, and they both laughed.

But there was no laughter when Lucas entered the big farmhouse. Nothing but shadows, dust, futility. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to be anywhere but here.

Just talk to Dad. He’ll understand, when you tell him about Ricky’s plan to undermine the family.

Yeah, right. His dad was the last person who would understand.

But there was no way out of it. Lucas had to talk to him.

When he was young, Lucas had learned to fear the quiet moments standing outside his father’s study door. He would try to listen through the thick oak, try to understand his mother’s high, worried tones or his father’s low rumble. Soon they would come out, and they would announce the punishment for whatever he’d done. A broken chair, torn wallpaper, toys left in the parlor: each crime would have its own particular punishment, to be described by his father as soon as the door swung open.

Here he was, feeling that same fear, a grown man standing by his father’s door.

He knocked, and heard his father’s chair legs scrape across the floor.

A dozen years seemed to pass as his father’s footsteps crossed the study. The hinges of the study door creaked.

I wish my friends were here. I wish Dad didn’t have this same damned hold over my life.

“Come in, Lucas,” said his father. He had his wire-rimmed glasses folded in one hand. Hands that had never been roughened from hard work. Never had the rich dark soil of the farm under the nails.

Lucas followed his father into the darkness of the study.

It should have been a warm room. The bookshelves that rose to the high ceiling, the old couch, the roll-top desk, they all looked like part of a comfortable, old-fashioned study.

But the tension between them left everything feeling hard and sharp. Even the late-afternoon light couldn’t soften the edges.

Why do I feel like I’m about to get in trouble?

Maybe because I am.

“Dad, I wanted to talk to you about the farm. I found out a few things.”

“Must we? There are so many more interesting things to talk about. For example, there’s an estate sale in Norfolk later this month I am thinking about. The deceased was a professor, and they say ten thousand books will be available. Can you even imagine? This old closet of mine could turn into a real library, the way I’ve always wished.”

Lucas looked around at the books lining every inch of the room. Wasn’t it real, already?

“That’s great, Dad. You should buy all the books you want.”

“Books take money, though. That’s the sad part about them. So much money.”

“Which leads me to the sale of the land,” said Lucas.

“Psh,” said his father.

“I found out who is trying to buy it. You don’t know him, but I went to high school with him, and today when Ash and I visited him—”

“Ash? You were with Ash Cray?”

“I know, I know. It’s a long story. But the short version is, this guy Ricky made a fortune—”

“I thought you boys were in a feud? Weren’t you storming around the room about the Crays just a few days ago?”

Oh god, am I going to have to tell him everything?

“Like I said, a long story,” said Lucas.

“I don’t like you going around with that boy,” said his father.

“You yourself were saying we took the feud too seriously, Dad.”

“I know what I said, Lucas. Mind like a steel trap, you know. No, it has nothing to do with the feud. It has to do with the Crays themselves. They’re like a species of venomous serpent, best left alone.”

Lucas sighed and sank onto the sofa. He had apparently earned a lecture.

“I understand that,” he said. “But Ash is different. And his land is at stake, too.”

His father scowled. “The Cray land is not up for sale.”

“Well, yeah, that’s my point. It is, and both Ash and I would rather it weren’t.”

“Archibald Cray would never give up the slightest mote of dust, if it belonged to him. No, my boy, if you think Ash Cray is helping you, then you’re being naive. There’s a plan here, a plot, a scheme.”

Please stop being crazy. Nothing disheartened Lucas more than when his father was like this.

“I need you to just listen,” he said. “Let me tell you what we found out.”

“I worry about you, Lucas. Living alone, aimless in life, doing nothing but playing with your friends. You’ve never faced the real world. You’ve never had to see the evil that is out there, the manipulation.”

“Can you listen to me?” asked Lucas. “Ricky Talbot is trying to cheat us. Trying to hurt us. It’s revenge for something that happened ages ago—”

“There. There!”

Jed Phelps looked agitated. He rose from his seat and set his glasses on the desk. He began to pace. “This is what I mean, boy. Revenge? Plots? Cheats? You are bringing your feuds into my home, my abode of peace! It’s one thing for you to be naïve, but quite another for you to drag these incessant battles into the one place on earth I can survive in my quiet and humble way!”

“Dad, come on, can you please stop being like this? I need your help, I need you to turn Ricky down, we’ll find some other way to get you money, I’ll go back to school or get a job or—”

“You must promise me never to speak to Ash Cray again.”

“That’s ridiculous, I’m not going to promise that.”

“You must! Every time that boy’s name is mentioned, friction comes right along with it!"

Oh my god, I am not having this conversation with you. You have nothing to do with my personal life. You’ve kept yourself distant and aloof all these years…all so you could focus on what matters to you: yourself.

“Okay, look, I’m sorry if I bothered you,” said Lucas, trying to sound as conciliatory as he could. “I know how you feel about the Crays…and about stress in general. I’ll just head back to my house.”

Without another word, his father picked up a book and settled back into his chair. He slipped the thin-rimmed glasses on, and was instantly lost to Lucas.

It’s a strange life, when the guy who is supposed to be your worst enemy turns out to be the most sensitive, selfless person you know…and when your own flesh and blood can’t be bothered to listen to a single word you say.