Mom looked up as I burst in the door, took in my dirty rumpled clothing and cried, "Lucas! What on earth?"

            "A dog knocked me over," I lied breathlessly. There was no way I was going to tell her a zombie in a bathrobe tried to stab me. She was already half convinced I was a mental patient. She wouldn't believe me. She would think I was descending into madness and paranoia. Somewhere inside my head an evil little voice asked if that might be a possibility.

            I sat down and tried to force myself to eat a plate of eggs and toast and act normal while Mom ranted about dog owners and keeping vicious animals on a leash. I nodded and smiled and pretended to listen, my mind a whirlwind of confused thoughts. That man's face had looked exactly like the bus driver. It was no coincidence, I was sure of that much. And what had happened when he came at me? It felt like a shove, someone shoving me out of the way. I remembered the feeling of being watched and goosebumps prickled my arms. I tried to decide if I felt watched right now. Maybe I was imagining things.

            Mom was staring at me, and I realized she must be expecting me to say something. "Sorry, what?"

            She looked concerned. "Are you alright? Maybe having the dog jump on you was a bit much for someone who's recovering from an accident. I think you should go lie down for a bit."

            "Yeah." I stood up. "I think I'll do that."

            Sunday afternoon my phone vibrated. A message from Carly.

How is summer so far? I'm totally pumped to go camping this year!

I grimaced at the message. How was my summer? It didn't look like I would be getting a summer here. I dialed her number. Carly picked up on the third ring, and her familiar greeting made me smile so wide my cheeks hurt a little.

"Hiya!"

            "Hey," I said, "you're so lucky you get to go camping."

            "Heck yes," she sang, and I could hear her banging around in the background, probably crashing into things as she walked around. Carly wasn't the most coordinated girl. I grinned.

"Well, you're gloaty, aren't you?"

            "You're just jealous." She giggled. "What are you doing for the summer anyways? Sorting your sock drawer?"

            "Worse," I groaned, "Mom has me signed up for summer school."

            "What?" Carly's voice squeaked in outrage. "Why did she do that? That's cruel and inhumane!"

            "I know. And I think it has something to do with the bus that hit me." I'll admit, I'd been looking forward to the breathless shriek that I knew would greet that statement.

            "What? You did what?"

            "A bus ran into the bus stop I was sitting at," I said it casually, like it was no big deal.

Carly's voice was awed."And you're alive? You're not maimed or anything?"

            I laughed. "Not even a little maimed."

            "Holy crap! You're like...a super hero or something!" Carly shrieked in my ear, and I pulled the phone back, wincing. I decided not to mention the part about the bathrobe zombie, that one just sounded crazy, besides, Carly would probably faint or something.

            "That's so cool! Did you, like...punch the bus and it flew back? That would have been epic!"

            I laughed. Carly is one of the only females I know that uses the word "epic" with frequency. In that second I missed her so fiercely, I felt like climbing on the next bus and riding it all the way back to Kamloops. I kept telling myself I would drive to see her when I got my license.

Yeah right, like Mom was going to let that happen now.

            Carly sounded serious now. "Really though, how the heck did that happen?"

            "Apparently the bus driver was drinking," I said, "that's what the doctor told me. I guess he was having a mid life crisis or something. Anyway, her ran into the bus shelter and mangled it. I was thrown into a bunch of bushes. I guess I must have knocked my head a bit, and woke up in the hospital."

            "And you're one hundred percent okay?"

            "Yup, after the concussion wore off I was totally fine. Still am." Aside from the zombies of course, I added mentally, but those may or may not be in my head.

            "Wow, you are insanely tough," she said. In the background I could hear someone calling to Carly, probably her dad, or one of her brothers. "Oops, I've gotta go. I'm getting yelled at for not helping to pack up the trailer."

            "Where are you going camping?"

            "We're heading over to Hornby Island for a week."

            "Do some skinny dipping for me." I grinned.

            "You can count on it." it sounded like she was smiling, "I'll phone you when I get back, okay?"

            "Okay, have fun camping."

            "Good luck with summer school, bye Lucas."

            "Bye."

            I listened to the dial tone for a couple seconds, suddenly feeling depressed. Why couldn't I be going with her for a week of roasting marshmallows and fishing and going to the nude beach to giggle like five year olds at all the naked hippies. It wasn't fair. Instead I was stuck in summer school, redoing Biology. This summer was going to suck big time.

            Maybe I couldn't convince Mom not to sign me up for summer school, but maybe if I went to ask Dad, he would give her a really hard time and she would eventually break down and say I didn't have to go. I snorted to myself as I pulled my jacket out of the closet. Okay, who was I fooling? Mom had never backed down from anything. In reality, I just needed someone to complain to, and Dad used to be good for that, he used to actually listen. It's Sunday, so maybe I can catch him just doing paper work or something and he'll have a minute to talk.

            I scribbled a note on a slip of paper and left it on the kitchen counter, telling Mom I'd gone for a walk so she didn't think I've been kidnapped or something. She'd been known to fly off the handle a lot since the accident. The dealership was five blocks away, and by the time I got there I was huffing for breath, a thin sheen of sweat on my forehead. Most people looked at my wiry frame and thought I was an athlete, but I only qualified for that if there was some sort of prize for eating the most junk food. I ate way too much junk and never exercise.

            The bell above the door rang as I passed under it, and Peter, one of Dad's employees looked up and gave me a wide cheesy smile before he realized it was me.

            "Oh, hey Lucas. Your Dad's in his office."

            "Cool, thanks." I looked around the car dealership, at the shiny SUV's and trucks. "Pretty dead today?"

            "You wouldn't believe it," Peter grumbled. "I don't even know why I'm here. We shouldn't be open on Sunday's at all."

            "That's my dad for you," I muttered, and gave him a sympathetic nod before moving past the front desk.

            The financial adviser's offices had walls made entirely of glass, which I always thought was weird. Dad must have heard my footsteps echoing down the hall, because he looked up and gave me short wave before looking back down at his paperwork.

            I pushed the door open. "Hey dad, lots of paperwork?"

            "Yes." he kept reading.

            I pulled out the chair on the other side of his desk, the one clients sat in. "So, Mom signed me up for summer school."

            He looked up, actually looking mildly interested, which made me press on eagerly, "I don't need it though, because I'm not failing. I mean, I'm not doing amazing, but I don't need to go to some stupid summer class. Can you talk to her?"

            He raised his eyebrows at me, shook his head and looked back down at his papers. "Sorry, Lucas. Your mother doesn't listen to anything I say, you know that. Now, I'm sorry about summer school, that sucks, but I've got a lot of paper work to do here."

            My chest felt tight, and I wanted to reach out and rip the distracting papers out of his hands and scream at him to pay attention to me. "You sure you can't even talk to her on the phone? I mean, it's half your money she spending on the classes."

            That one made him look up, and anger flashed across his face briefly. "Yes, well, she should have consulted me before she spends a good deal of our money, but that doesn't happen anymore." He looked back down the paper in his hand, and I bit my lip so hard it hurt. I wanted to bang my fist down on the table and make him jump, but what would throwing a tantrum achieve? I wasn't a petulant twelve-year-old, and it wouldn't help my case anyways.

            "Alright, well, I'll see you later."

            Dad didn't even look up, he just called after me, "Have a nice day now."

            I paused just outside his door. Seriously? Have a nice day? Did he forget he was talking to his son and not some stupid customer?

            I marched past Peter, mumbling goodbye and pretty much fumed all the way back to my house, kicking at rocks and pinecones on the road bad temperately. It looked like I would be going to summer school weather I liked it or not.

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