Page 34 of Switch!

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“When are you going to finish unpacking?” Mrs. McCain asks.

This has become a frequent question during dinner, which I try to avoid, especially if I have the day off. I usually manage to, but she knocked on my door this morning to say she was making my favorite meal. I showed up at the table to discover pork chops with green bean casserole. I never cared much for pork, but Caleb must have liked it, which explains why I can’t stop eating it at work.

“I’m mostly done,” I tell her. “I only have five or six boxes left.”

“Which is why I don’t understand what’s taking so long.”

“He’s a working man now,” Major McCain says proudly. “He’ll be even busier when he starts training.” His eyes pivot to me. “You’ll need to be in your best shape for tryouts. We don’t know what the competition is like here.”

He means high school football. I don’t want to try out for the team. I have more important things to do. Like bettering my mind. The thought makes me grin, which my father misinterprets as enthusiasm, judging from the way he smiles back. Hey, we’re finally bonding! Except he’s thinking of a pigskin, and I’m thinking of a woman.

“I can do it for you,” my mother says.

“Try out?” I tease.

“Unpack your boxes!” she says, slapping me on the arm.

I avert my eyes and force the smile off my face. Whenever I have any sort of positive interaction around Mrs. McCain, her husband reacts negatively. I don’t know what his problem is, only that I want to avoid angering him again. Caleb has way too many memories of being smacked around.

“I’ll take care of it soon,” I say. “Promise.”

“I don’t mind helping,” my mother says.

She gets bored, I suspect. When not taking care of the household, she’s obsessed with courtroom dramas, both on television and in the books she reads. I wonder if she dreamed of a legal career when she was younger, and if so, what got in the way. Although it isn’t hard to guess.

“For Christ’s sake!” my father chimes in. “If he says he’ll do it, he’ll do it. Right?”

I nod, hating when he puts me in this position. I either make him mad or hurt her feelings. What a terrible choice, and yet another reason I prefer to make myself scarce. As the meal continues, my father starts droning on about his work, which I usually tune out. I shouldn’t have this time, because when I finish scarfing down my food, I notice them both staring at me.

“What?” I ask.

“The family festival this weekend,” my mother says. “Are you looking forward to it?”

I don’t know exactly what they’re referring to, but Air Force bases sometimes have open houses where families of service members join them on base for music and carnival rides. Caleb has happy memories of such events when he was younger, although as he got older, he stopped liking them.

“That depends,” I reply. “Can I bring someone?”

“A girl?” Major McCain asks with a leer.

“Maybe.”

Sarah has been chatting me up at work. Only in passing. She wants to know which chapter ofThe Little White Birdis the most romantic. I keep telling her that I’d love to show her, or even read it to her, if only I wasn’t so busy waiting tables. That’s her cue to ask me out, which hasn’t happened yet. I could ask her, but I’m playing hard to get—something Ineverthought I’d do. Whenever I used to ignore girls, they were happy to return the favor. “It’s someone I work with,” I say. “A waitress.”

“This is supposed to be a family event,” Caleb’s mother says, pouting in a way that I find endearing. “We barely get to see you, and you’ll be enlisting next year.”

I choke on my reply and have to pretend that I swallowed wrong. I’ll beenlistingnext year? This is news to me! I really should spend more time going over Caleb’s memories, no matter how unpleasant they are.

“Your mother is right,” Major McCain says. “You need to focus on making a good impression. Take this waitress out some other time.”

“Fine, fine,” I say teasingly. “But if she asks why I’m too busy to see her, I’ll explain that I’m dating my parents.”

Neither of them laugh. They don’t have much of a sense of humor, from what I can tell. That’s okay. I’m more concerned about this career in the military that Caleb previously agreed to. It doesn’t sound like the life for me, but I suppose I’ll get a more rounded idea when visiting the base in person.

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I’m wearing a white button-up shirt that my father insisted I tuck in and a pair of beige slacks, even though we’re outside in the heat. I would rather be wearing something less formal, like shorts and a T-shirt. My hair is freshly cut, also at his insistence. The sides are now buzzed and the top trimmed short. I don’t like it. I’ve always preferred having longer hair, but Caleb can at least pull off the military look. Sarah already teased me about it at work, her eyes shining as she did so. I think that’s a good sign. It certainly made me appreciate the hairstyle more, but I’m feeling irritated about it again, since we’re now surrounded by families in casual clothing. Some of the kids, even the boys, have long hair, and I saw a stand selling vegan food, of all things, so I’m not sure why my father is so insistent we behave like a family trapped in the fifties. He’s even wearing his full uniform, which I find embarrassing.