My father came to a halt in front of Collegiate.
“Well,” he said in a soldierly manner, “this is it.”
I stared at the gloomy building and imagined those same
words used by fathers sending their sons off into battle.
It was my father’s idea that I attend Collegiate School.
He thought it would transform me into a useful member
of society, a lawyer, say, or maybe a number-crunching accountant.
“It’s time you sorted yourself out,” he said. “You’re sixteen.”
“You’re nearly a man. You need to start buckling down.”
I was barely managing to get by as a boy.
Paraphrases from the novel What I Was by Meg Rosoff.