He was grinning when I opened the door. “Got any chickens you need rounding up, ma’am?” he asked. “Scott, were you the one who let those loose at school?” I said, laughing. “No, but I know who did. The Edge never reveals its sources, though.” I realized it would be impolite not to invite him in, so I said, “Want to come in for a sec?” He stepped in the microscopic space just inside the door. “Wow! These are close quarters, aren’t they?” “Told you!” I said, and called, “Dad? Sylvia? We’re leaving.” They came downstairs—Dad in his bulky knit sweater and Sylvia in a turquoise sweatpants set. She had her camera. “Hello, Scott,” said Dad genially, shaking his hand, and Sylvia gave him a nice smile. “Great costumes, you guys,” she said. “Sounds like a fun evening.” “A new experience, anyway,” said Scott. “Nice to meet you both.” I didn’t know if he meant that it was me or the dance that was a new experience, but he was dressed for it, all right.
