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words go dark permanently that didn't sit well with him. This was the very worst lesson Max had ever heard in school, and there were fifteen minutes left on the clock. Mr. Wisner turned and pulled down a map of the world.
    "But before that, the human race will likely fall to one of any number of calamities -- self-inflicted or not: war, radical climate change, meteors, spectacular floods and earthquakes, superviruses ..."
    Now he turned back to the students, with a look on his face that was almost cheerful.
    "Wow, I sound like a downer, don't I! Look on the bright side -- you and everyone you know will be long gone by then! When the sun is extinguished and the world is swallowed like a grape by the collapsing fabric of space, we'll be long forgotten in the endless continuum of time. The human race is, after all, just a sigh in the long sonorous sleep of this world and all worlds to come. Okay, that's the end for today. Have a great weekend."

CHAPTER VIII
    Max was often the last one picked up, but it didn't matter so much. He was bored most of the time he was at A Spoonful of Lovin' Afterschool Centre, so it was no big deal to be bored while waiting for his mom to pick him up. He sat on the steps of the porch, listening for his mom's car to gag and shimmy around the corner.
    He'd been going to this center for a year. The previous one he went to had gotten too uptight about money, his mom said, so one day he'd switched to this one, which, she said, had a more humane payment plan.
    The man in charge of A Spoonful of Lovin was short and slight and named Perry. He was trying to grow a beard, but he looked like a mangy dog; none of the growth areas on his face connected.
    When Max's mom pulled in, Perry waved and walked to his own car. "Good night, Max."
    Max didn't run to his mom's car and didn't walk slowly, either. In this way the walk seemed to last weeks.
    Max got into the car and closed the door. He sat in the front seat because he got the front once a week.
    "Hey Maxie," his mom said, rubbing his knee.
    "Hey," he said.
    "Hi Mr. Perry," she said, waving. "That's gonna cost me twenty dollars," she said to Max as she pulled away. Every minute late cost a dollar. That was the rule.
    Claire was in the back, her feet propped up on the back of Max's seat. She didn't even look Max's way, so he said nothing to her. It was obvious that neither of them would back down and apologize, and Max guessed it would be like a hundred other fights they'd had: it would be placed, precariously, in the crowded closet of all they'd done to each other, safe behind the door until someone turned the knob again.
    Now that they were moving again, she picked up a conversation begun before Max's arrival.
    "You're really not coming?" Claire said, seeming astonished. They were talking about some kind of talent show that she was going to be in.
    "I can't, Claire," Max's mom said, "I can't take the after noon off. Not right now. You know that. Put your seatbelt on."
    Claire ignored this directive. "Why don't you just quit? Tell Holloway to F off?"
    They were talking about Mom's boss. They were often talking about Mom's boss. Claire knew everything about Mom's job and advised her on how to handle it.
    "I thought we decided I'd stick this out for at least a year and then--"
    "But he's not taking you seriously," Claire interrupted. "You said he's supposed to give you a raise if you finished the course. At the review he said--"
    "I know, but don't you think--"
    "I talked to Dad and he said you should--"
    "Don't!" Mom barked. " Don't ... " she repeated, taking a deep breath and clenching her fists. " Don't talk to your father about my job. He has too many opinions about me. I know you and he think this house is a failure, Claire, but he's one voice I don't need right now ..."
    Max was so tired of this kind of argument that he didn't know what to say or think. He had tried to stop these discussions before but all that had happened was that the two of them turned on