“You got a ticket?” Gary shouted.
“It’s no big deal. Dad, not like there was a crash or anything.”
“No big deal? Zack, I’ve been driving thirty years and never got a ticket. You got your license last month and already —”
“It’s okay, I’ll pay it.”
“You got that right. And until you do, you don’t drive.”
“Aw Dad, come on.”
“Can I at least know what you did wrong?”
“I went through a stop sign. They stop teenagers for every little thing.”
“So you think that’s a little thing?”
“Dad, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“License and registration, please.”
“Dad, listen. Please don’t do this, I need the car. How am I supposed to get to work now?”
“Pretend it’s a hiking trail.”
Zack got out his wallet. “I won’t do it again.”
“Just want to make sure there’s a lasting impression.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me how you always walked to work when you were my age?”
“No. That’s not relevant here. What is relevant is this. I love you, and the idea of you putting yourself at risk makes me crazy.”
Zack went up the stairs. In his room he got out his phone and punched in a number.
Harry’s voice answered . “Did you tell your old man?”
“Was he pissed?”
“Not really. He took my license, though.”
“What did he say?”
“Not much.” Zack turned off the phone and lay down on the bed. He was thinking, "What did he say? He said ‘I love you.’"
© Copyright 2009 Doremi (UN: nicegrandma777 at Writing.Com).
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