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wanted Angie to go to computer school, where with her brains he thought she’d have the best chance at making big bucks. Angie wanted to study literature. Those test scores were going to rock my father’s rowboat till it took on water.
    After lunch, Mumma told us she’d clean up if we wanted to go to the beach. “I don’t have anything to do anyway,” she said with a hint of resentment that annoyed me. I knew there was no point in offering to help her because she’d only refuse.
    From long habit, the three of us always walked in the same pattern, me in the middle, Jake to my right, and Angie to my left. We’d been doing that for so many years that if somebody switched positions, we could hardly talk to each other. Heat was shimmering over the sidewalk. Weeds looking for water pushed up through the cracks and fried. My blood was boiling anyhow from not talking about David. I felt bad enough that I’d been so preoccupied I hadn’t remembered to ask Angie about her SATs. I figured as soon as we put some space between us and Mumma, I’d be spilling my guts about David Montagnier but for some reason, I couldn’t. It was almost a mile to the beach and whoever was brave enough to be out on their tiny patch of lawn waved or said hello. Funny about Rocky Beach. I’d lived there all my life and part of me felt completely at home. But my musical side, well, that was a different story altogether. There was only one person who truly understood what I was all about, which was Mrs. Fasio. And, of course, the entire population of Rocky Beach thought she was a freak. So I waved back and thought, Nice to see you, but you don’t know me.
    â€œAngie, look up in the sky tomorrow,” I said. “I’m getting a skywriter to put your scores up there.”
    â€œIt’s nice,” Angie said, “but your news is better.”
    I threw Angie a look that said not yet, so she didn’t object when I turned to Jake and said, “Maybe I won’t be quitting music.”
    He grabbed a hunk of my hair and tugged. “Whatever you say, Stallone.” I knew he didn’t buy it, but at least he wasn’t nagging me. As I said, he could be patient.
    The sand was jammed with weekenders, so we walked down to the jetty, where you could sometimes actually see Brooklyn, if that’s what you were inclined to look at. There wasn’t anybody else around except for a couple of surfers who were trying to hitch a ride on the dinky little waves. I didn’t realize it then, but after seeing beaches all over the world, there’s still nothing that can compare to that hundred-mile curl of surf on the south shore of Long Island.
    Anyway, we sat on our driftwood log and as usual, Jake started tossing stones into the water. He had some arm. The damn things went halfway to Bermuda.
    â€œMy guidance counselor says NYU will give me a scholarship,” Angie said. I held up my hand to slap her five but she just threw me a pitiful look.
    The thing about my sister was, she didn’t act like a high-school kid. She was a solemn little thing with eyeballs that looked like they could tell you the secrets of the universe. So when she turned and wailed in this MTV-type voice, “I know Dad’s not going to let me do it. My life is so over !” I had to chew a hole on the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.
    But when I saw her eyes start to fill up, battle mode kicked in. “The sonofabitch will let you do it,” I said.
    â€œWe can work out a plan of attack,” Jake said, Mister Practical. “If it doesn’t cost him anything, we’ll find a way to make him go for it.” I put my arm around Angie and gave her a squeeze. She looked fragile, but I could feel her wiry strength.
    â€œThe scholarship wouldn’t pay for everything,” she said.
    â€œDon’t worry, Ange,” I said. “I’ve got a little trust fund going for