I try to stay busy. I am busy. I spend long hours at my mother’s campaign headquarters doing research and drafting position papers, sitting through long meetings with her advisors. It’s really engaging and I throw myself into it because my social life, in contrast, is so boring. I have friends here at home. Or at least people to play tennis with, suck back a beer with, drive to the beach with—but I’m not doing a lot of that. When I’m not working we have events to attend, like the state-wide political convention I’m dreading tonight.

“You should bring someone, Matt! You’ll have a better time.” Lucy pours herself coffee and sinks into her chair at the kitchen table.

I shake my head without looking up from my newspaper. I sense more than see my parents exchange a look. They are both in town for this Fourth of July event.

“Take Polly! She’s so nice—and she won’t expect anything from you,” Lucy persists.

“Yeah, Polly’s nice.” I agree, then pause. “What do you mean she won’t expect anything from me?” I ask suspiciously, looking up to find my family all studying me.

“You know….” Lucy waves her hand in the air. My father wears his deep thoughts expression, like he’s solving all the world’s problems. My mother sips her coffee, unperturbed.

“You just seem distracted, Matt. I think Lucy means that Polly might cheer you up without expecting anything serious,” my mother says, standing behind me. She’s probably reading the paper over my shoulder.

I glance up at her. “Are you guys actually hinting that I need to get laid? And offering up Polly?”

“Matthew,” my father sighs. Lucy chokes on her coffee and slams down her cup, starting to giggle.

My unflappable mother just says mildly, “Now that would be inappropriate, wouldn’t it?”

“You take Polly,” I say to Lucy in irritation.

Polly is the daughter of a family friend and she’s pleasant company and pretty enough. Enough for what, I wonder? Not sex, that’s for sure. The idea of sex with Polly horrifies me. But I have to admit that I’m not that interested in sex at all these days. And that’s weird.

Lucy laughs as if I told a hilarious joke. I know she’s seeing someone at school, but I haven’t teased her about it. Because that would just open the door to being teased back.

As if on cue, she eyes me. “Annika says her NGO is hosting a big party for the Fourth.”

My head jerks up and I can’t even pretend disinterest. “Why are you talking to Annika?”

Lucy shrugs. “We’ve stayed in touch. And you know, she’s staying in my room now. We’ve bonded.”

“You talk to her on the phone? You email? You text? When did you hear from her?” It’s only when I stop talking that I realize how pathetic I sound. The three of them are looking at me.

“Don’t you hear from her?” my mother asks. She moves around the room, straightening objects on the counter, adjusting papers, as if she’s making idle conversation when I know everyone in the room is suddenly alert to my misery.

I sigh and slump into my chair. “Yeah, I do. We text.” But not often, I don’t add.

Because I can hardly bear it. It’s not nearly enough to satisfy me and it just ends up reminding me that she’s there, dating other guys, an intern in a city famous for hitting on interns. Last time I heard from her she mentioned hanging out with an Estonian guy who works at the State department. Sergei. That was a week ago. Fuck, maybe she’s going with him to this party. I wage an inner war over how much intel I want to drag out of Lucy.

“Hmm,” my mother says, exchanging a capital-L look with my father. That Look almost invariably means they’re plotting something. “I could use someone to go down there and talk to Bridges about those base closings in Germany. In case we need to make a statement for our veterans here.”

I shake my head. I promised Annika space. I promised her. Besides, I don’t think I could handle it. It’s pathetic, but true.

“Won’t work, Mom. Not going. You should ask Annika though. She knows a ton about Eastern Europe—and about American military abroad. She’ll help you,” I finish glumly. “She has high standards of fairness and she’ll want to repay you for the favor of staying there.”

“Hmm. Maybe I’ll reach out to her.” My mother sounds thoughtful. And now I’m worried.

“Don’t…report about me! You wouldn’t, right?” I tense up.

She tilts her head. “Why not? I could report on how much help you’ve been to the campaign this summer, how much I’ve enjoyed working with you.”

I’m taken aback. For my mom that’s effusive praise.

“Uh, no. Please don’t.”

She shrugs and heads for the door. “Okay. See you all later at the party. Don’t forget to wear the new red, white, and blue buttons!” She flutters a hand and disappears.

“Don’t worry, Matt. I haven’t told Annika how miserable you are and Mom won’t either.” Lucy pats my shoulder and darts away before I can blister her hide.

That leaves me with my father, who sits down and makes himself comfortable at the kitchen table. I hope he’ll pick up a piece of the newspaper. But no, he studies me.

“What did you mean about Annika’s high standards of fairness?” he asks. He’s direct like Lucy. And Annika, damn it.

I cringe inside but there’s no avoiding my father when he’s in the mood for a cross-examination. I may as well spill all.

“Do you know what class she and I were in together this spring?”

He shakes his head and I fidget nervously before bracing myself to meet his eyes. “It was called Extra Credit and it was a pilot program for students with academic or disciplinary problems.”

My father opens his mouth, but I forestall him. “I was there because my frat had been caught cheating on an Organic Chemistry final.” I meet my father’s eyes and wait for this to sink in.

“You didn’t take Organic Chemistry,” he says, frowning.

“No, I didn’t. I didn’t cheat on the test myself, but I helped my frat brothers obtain and distribute last year’s test. The cheaters were suspended and failed the class. I essentially cut a deal. I agreed to attend the Extra Credit class and contemplate the error of my ways and they agreed not to penalize me in any other way—or notify my parents.” I pause again, waiting.

“An honor code violation would damage your law school applications.” His face betrays no emotion. I imagine him sifting through possibilities in his head—weighing moral standards and practical outcomes.

I laugh and shake my head, then state slowly, for the record. “I’m. Not. Going. To. Law. School.”

“Okay,” my father says reluctantly. “I can accept that. But what does this have to do with Annika? And why are you volunteering this now?”

I blow out a breath. Why indeed?

“Annika was in the class for trumped up reasons. A girl who was jealous of her—a girl I know well—set her up for a fall. Annika didn’t do anything wrong. Oh, she can be bitchy,” I admit and my father looks sort of taken aback.

“But she has a strong moral code. We were partnered in that class together and she was pretty appalled by my behavior in the cheating scandal. By my behavior in general. She kind of kicked my ass about that.” Discussing this is just making me miss her more.

“She was right to,” my father says simply.

“Yeah, I’ve come to see that too. I’ve left the frat.” I pause for a reaction, but my father just lifts an eyebrow.

“Where will you live?”

“I don’t know yet. I’ll figure that out. I hope it won’t mean any extra expense for you guys, but if it does I’ll find a way to cover it.”

My father leans back in his chair and folds his hands together. He looks relaxed but his gaze is sharp. “We can sort that out. But return to the high standards of fairness, if you please.”

“Yeah, well. They seemed absurd at first, but they’ve grown on me. I realize what was wrong about distributing that test.”

“What was wrong about it?”

I think about how to put it. “I was participating in wrongdoing, enabling it, even endorsing it as the president of the fraternity. I facilitated the cheating even if I didn’t cheat myself. I have to respect the rules of the institutions I’m a part of, even if—or when—others don’t.”

I hesitate, taking a deep breath.

“And then I have to speak up, do the right thing.” I smile a little at how idealistic I sound, how much like Annika. “You know, Ethics 101.”

He smiles a little back. And I realize I like this. I like having this difficult conversation with him. I’ve always felt closer to my mother. I understand her easy public manner. I’m like her. My father has always been more of an enigma to me, more private. But right now I feel tuned into his deep concern for the law, as deep as my mother’s for politics.

“And you credit Annika for your turnaround? She sounds like a remarkable person,” he says mildly.

“Oh, she is,” I sigh. “I mean, she’s a pain in the ass too.”

My father laughs out loud and I’m startled, then crack a grin.

“It wasn’t only Annika—I made other friends in that class too. And who knows why people change, right? But I’m sorry you didn’t get more of a chance to talk to her.”

My father straightens his expression and says solemnly, “Oh, I’m sure I’ll have other chances.”

I don’t know what to say to that, but there’s something else I want him to understand.

“You see then, why I can’t pretend? With girls like Polly?” I’m embarrassed by how earnest I sound.

“Yes,” he says gently. “I see.”