Whatever it was, it was wild, and it scared her. She decided to call Mrs. Needleman the first chance she had.

Ginger squeezed her eyes against the throbbing in her head and waited for the pressure to subside. It didn't. But when a familiar melody began wafting down from the waiting room speakers, her eyes slowly opened in comprehension. The universe had chosen a soundtrack for her mental breakdown, and it was the Muzak version of the Clash's Rock the Casbah, which meant that, in addition to everything else, she'd just learned that her high school prom theme song was old enough to become elevator music.

She laughed out loud. It was an unstable kind of laugh.

Are you okay? Jason sounded concerned.

No. Of course I'm not okay.

I'm really sorry, Mom.

That was the twentieth time her son had apologized in the last hour. Ginger tapped her fingertips against her forehead, hoping to loosen the frown lines that had probably become canyons in the last hour.

She turned to Jason, prepared to give him the lecture of a lifetimehe'd just caused grave injury to his brother! But when she looked at him, she saw how his blue eyes were filled with remorse. He looked almost meek. Frightened.

How could such a sweet boy be capable of such rotten behavior? Where had she gone wrong?

He'd been a joyous and happy baby, sleeping through the night by eight weeks, always wanting to be cuddled. Then he became a sociable toddler, fearless among the little ones in his playgroupa natural leader. Next, he became a high-energy kid with a passion for baseball, like his father. And now

Ginger studied Jason's face and saw the same boy she'd always known, intelligent and defiant. But he no longer liked to be hugged. There was blond stubble on his chin and upper lip. He was no longer interested in being a leader. And his passion for baseball ended last year, when Larry berated him for not making the traveling team.

According to the family counselor they'd been seeing, Jason needed to develop strategies for identifying and handling his emotions. In Ginger's opinion, her son's problem was far simpler than all thathe was so angry with his dad he couldn't see straight.

I didn't mean to hurt him this bad, Jason whispered. But he drives me nuts with all his insane whining about being presidentI'm sick of it, Mom! You've got to get him to shut up about it. I can't take it anymore.

Ginger wouldn't go so far as to call it insane, but she did know that Josh had the tendency to grate on a person's nerves. He'd come home from his fifth-grade social studies class one afternoon and announced that he planned to become president of the United States. Everything he did from there on out, he said, would be with that goal in mind. Ginger and Larry had smiled and encouraged their sweet, idealistic son, knowing his attention would soon divert to cars or computers or the newest Xbox game. They'd been wrong. When Josh began working on the costume crew for his school's theater productions, they were thrilled, thinking maybe he'd found another passion.

He hadn't. Joshua stuck to his plan, making sure that every day was a steppingstone toward his eventual role of commander in chief. He'd joined the debate club. He'd volunteered for local, state, and national political campaigns. He'd helped with voter drives and the bloodmobile and environmental projects. And though he was now only in tenth grade, Josh had collected a hundred college catalogs and designed a complex spreadsheet comparing course offerings, Washington, D.C., internship opportunities, and famous political alumni. It made Ginger's head spin.

In fact, during their emergency dash to the dentist's office just an hour before, Josh had held the bloody towel to his jaw and said he worried the injury might dilute the photogenic quality of his smile, or alter his profile.

Ginger sighed. I know Joshua can be annoying sometimes, but that doesn't give you the right to beat him bloody. She shook her head. Besides, you already said this whole thing was about your dad. What did Josh say that made you so mad?

Her son's eyes flashed before he turned away.

Tell me what got you so upset.

Jason ignored her. Ginger was about to demand he answer her question when she felt the creepy stare of the guy three seats down. That was all she could takeshe heard a distinct snap! inside her head. She knew it was the sound of her last nerve, now officially shot to hell.

Ginger swiveled her head to catch the man admiring her spandex-clad hips. She cleared her throat and smiled at him pleasantly. Then she spoke in a voice loud enough to be heard by everyone in the crowded waiting room and most of the office staff. Excuse mearen't you here with your wife?

The man dragged his eyes from her butt and frowned. Huh?

I thought so, Ginger said sweetly. I am here with my son, who required emergency dental work.

The man seemed confused. Okay, he mumbled.

And I was exercising in the privacy of my home when he was injured, so I didn't have time to change.

His mouth fell open.

Do you know where I'm going with this? she asked, waiting for an answer that didn't come. No?

Uh

If you don't stop ogling me, I will march right in there and interrupt your wife's appointment and tell her what a sleazoid pervo scumwad you are. Don't think I won't.

The man stared at her, stunned.

Ginger pointed a French-tipped nail in his direction. You picked the wrong damned day to mess with me, she hissed.

That's when the man gathered his Sports Illustrated and his wife's purse and moved to the other side of the waiting room.

Pleased with the results, Ginger returned her attention to Jason.

Gee, Mom, he said. That was kinda disturbing.

She laughed. Oh, yeah? Well, the same goes for you, Jason. You've picked the wrong damned day to mess with me. Ginger lowered her voice. It's time to spill it. What in the hell is going on with you, Jase? It's like you're trying to screw up your life just to make a point.

Jason remained silent.

I'm so worried about you. Ginger tried not to allow her voice to break. First the curfew violation and the drinking, then the destruction of property and the cheating at school. What's this about, honey? You can tell me. You have to tell me.

He shrugged and looked away, saying nothing.

Answer me!

He slowly swiveled his head in her direction. In a surly, exhausted-sounding voice, he said, I'm a teenage boy, Mom. Get over it. So, is Dad coming or not?

The dentist chose that unfortunate moment to enter the waiting room and motion for Ginger and Jason to join him. He escorted them to his office at the end of the hall, where Joshua waited, sporting a metal wire across his top and bottom teeth, much like the one he'd sported when he'd had braces.

The teeth will reattach just fine, the dentist said. But no solid food at all for about ten days. Just liquid. And after that only soft foods. He won't be eating anything like hard pretzels for about four weeks.

Ginger nodded, her brain frazzled.

I'll need to see him back here next week.

Okay, she said, her worried eyes darting from the dentist to Josh and Jason.

Why isn't Larry here? The dentist looked at all three members of the Garrison family for a reply. Didn't you page him?

He's stuck at the hospital. Jason jumped in before Ginger could think of how to respond. Clearly, her son was protecting Larry's reputation with a man who happened to be one of his dad's golfing buddies. Medical emergencyyou know how it is, Jason added, smiling.

Sure. The dentist nodded. While writing out two prescriptions for Joshua, he added, No more right hooks to your brother's face, got it?

Jason swallowed hard. Got it, he whispered.

The dentist looked up over the rims of his glasses. Out in the real world, that's a felony. You know that, right? I'm sure your dad has explained that to you?