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butterouttacreamSometimes in the summer, Frank and his parents had dinner out on the patio. It was nice -- practically nicer than the dining room, if you asked Frank, because the summer weather wasn't so bad (but not as nice as Christmas; Frank always liked Christmas better), and anyway this had to be nicer for the neighbors. 'Cause the Abagnales were like a Saks window display, after all, and everyone wanted to see them. That was what Frank's dad was always telling him, anyway, so basically what it boiled down to was that eating on the patio was better for everyone.
"Frankie, dear, would you pass the coq au vin?" asked his mother.
Frank handed it over. Because he was a good son. Or something.
"Listen, Frank," his dad said, his voice gruff but friendly as usual. "We've gotta have a talk about school next year."
Frank... well, Frank figured it was something like a change of tie color in the unicorn. Because he was innocent and naive like that. "Yeah, Dad?"
His father hemmed and hawed a little, glanced over at Frank's mother, then charged on. "So... you're a fan of that school, huh?"
Frank popped a forkful of green beans in his mouth. "Uh-huh."
Another awkward look between his parents. That one, Frank did pick up on. "But, right," said his dad, "your mother and I were thinking, Frank. Being cooped up in New Rochelle all the time like this -- it can't be good for you, kid. Don't you want to see the world? Get out there a little more?"
Now he had Frank's interest. Not that he ever had anything less, really -- Frank was pretty much in perpetual full-on listening mode when it came to his dad. "Dad, what are you talking about?"
Frank's mother made a soft noise in the back of her throat, then stood up to take some dishes that didn't look finished inside into the kitchen.
"Frankie..." his dad started. "There's a boarding school in Maryland that looks like something you'd like. It's on an island, and -- you could keep up your French classes, and hey, probably even be the best in the class. Doesn't that, uh, doesn't that sound like something you'd enjoy?"
Frank shrugged, and reached up to pass his mother a casserole dish, unbidden. "Sure," he said easily. "When do I start?"
[[nfb/nfi, obviously!]]
"Frankie, dear, would you pass the coq au vin?" asked his mother.
Frank handed it over. Because he was a good son. Or something.
"Listen, Frank," his dad said, his voice gruff but friendly as usual. "We've gotta have a talk about school next year."
Frank... well, Frank figured it was something like a change of tie color in the unicorn. Because he was innocent and naive like that. "Yeah, Dad?"
His father hemmed and hawed a little, glanced over at Frank's mother, then charged on. "So... you're a fan of that school, huh?"
Frank popped a forkful of green beans in his mouth. "Uh-huh."
Another awkward look between his parents. That one, Frank did pick up on. "But, right," said his dad, "your mother and I were thinking, Frank. Being cooped up in New Rochelle all the time like this -- it can't be good for you, kid. Don't you want to see the world? Get out there a little more?"
Now he had Frank's interest. Not that he ever had anything less, really -- Frank was pretty much in perpetual full-on listening mode when it came to his dad. "Dad, what are you talking about?"
Frank's mother made a soft noise in the back of her throat, then stood up to take some dishes that didn't look finished inside into the kitchen.
"Frankie..." his dad started. "There's a boarding school in Maryland that looks like something you'd like. It's on an island, and -- you could keep up your French classes, and hey, probably even be the best in the class. Doesn't that, uh, doesn't that sound like something you'd enjoy?"
Frank shrugged, and reached up to pass his mother a casserole dish, unbidden. "Sure," he said easily. "When do I start?"
[[nfb/nfi, obviously!]]
