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It's always like this at the end of the summer.

Tuesday night when he gets home, I ask Pop what's happened about Tom.

"We'll work something out," he says, which isn't what you'd call a big explanation.

"You think he can get back into college?"

"I don't know. The Youth Board is going to work on it."

They're arranging for him to make up the midyear exams he missed, so he can get credit for that semester.

Then he can probably start making up the second semester at night school if he has a job.

"Apparently the Youth Board knew his father had skipped—they've been trying to trace him. I don't think it'll do any good if they find him. Tom had better just cross him off and figure his own life for himself."

You know, I see "bad guys" in television and stuff, but with the people I really know I always lump the parents on one team and the kids on the other.

Now here's my pop calmly figuring a kid better chalk off his father as a bad lot and go it alone.

If your father died, I suppose you could face up to it eventually, but having him just fade out on you, not care what you did—that'd be worse.

While I'm doing all this hard thinking, Pop has gone back to reading the paper.

I notice the column of want ads on the back, and all of a sudden my mind clicks on Tom and jobs.

"Hey, Pop! You know the florist on the corner, Palumbo, where you always get Mom the plant on Mother's Day? I went in there a couple of weeks ago, because he had a sign up, 'Helper Wanted.' I thought maybe it was deliveries and stuff that I could do after

"Palumbo, huhn?" Pop takes off his glasses and scratches his head with them.

He looks at his watch and sighs.

"They still open?"

They are, and Pop goes right down to see the guy.

He knows him fairly well anyway—there's Mother's Day, and Easter, and also the shop is the polling place for our district, so Pop's in there every Election Day.

He always buys some little bunch of flowers Election Day because he figures the guy ought to get some business having his shop all messed up for the day.

Dad comes back and goes over to the desk and scratches off a fast note.

He says, "Here. Address it to Tom and go mail it right away. Palumbo says he'll try him out at least. Tom can come over Thursday night and I'll take him in."

Tom comes home with Pop Thursday about nine o'clock.

They both look pretty good.

Mom has cold supper waiting, finishing off the icebox before we go away, so we all sit down to eat.

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