Pass It On by J. Minter

having a lot of trouble with the second one and that must be some consolation to you.”
    But Sam Grobart, potbellied and bald, with the wild eyes of a street-corner preacher, was beyond hearing.
    â€œThe sins of the father are not reflected on the son. Not at all! And we are here, breaking pizza with the son! He shall sleep under our very roof.”
    â€œI think I better go,” Jonathan said.
    â€œNot without me,” David said.
    The two boys stood up and made for the door.
    â€œWe know everything about you, and we’re okay with it! That’s what you need to know.” Sam Grobart rushed at Jonathan and hugged him. “We want you to stay here for as long as you like. I’ve been your mother’s therapist since before you were born and this is where I’ve arrived, at a place of complete forgiveness—a place where we all can live in harmony!”
    â€œCalm down now dear, you can’t charge anyone for this session.” Hilary Grobart pried her husband off Jonathan.
    â€œI forgive, and I share secrets.”
    â€œI wish you wouldn’t,” Jonathan said.
    â€œBoys, don’t leave,” Sam went on. “There’s more pizza and goodwill where this all came from—haveanother Coke.”
    But David and Jonathan were already out the door and into the elevator.
    â€œI’m sorry.” David looked wide-eyed at Jonathan. “I wish he hadn’t …you know… done that.”
    â€œI guess my dad took some money from your dad, huh?” Jonathan wiped at a spot on his coat that Sam Grobart had put there with his greasy hands.
    â€œI don’t entirely get what he was talking about, so who can say for sure? My dad can get pretty crazy. I think he’s starting some kind of forgiveness sessions. He already has people signing up. I hear Arno’s parents are interested.”
    â€œThat makes sense.” Jonathan sighed. They went out of the lobby, and stepped into the windy street. They walked west on Jane, with no particular direction in mind.
    â€œJonathan?”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œCould you not tell anyone that my dad is kind of insane?”
    â€œOkay. But could you not tell anyone that my dad probably did something really awful with your family’s money?”
    â€œOkay.” David looked away. “Dude?”
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œWho are you really taking on this sailing trip? ’Cause I think everyone—well, maybe not Patch, because we can’t find him again—but everyone else thinks they’re going, but I know you said you could only bring one guy, so…”
    Jonathan sighed. “Yeah, I kind of made a mess with all that.”
    â€œAnd none of us were going to say anything, but I think you need to be honest with us, you know?”
    â€œYou sound like your dad.”
    â€œI know. It’s creepy.” David shuddered.
    â€œI can’t believe I’m going to stay at your house tonight,” Jonathan said. “Do you have a lock on your door?”
    â€œNot really. But we can always prop a chair.”

what the hell is happening in my apartment?
    After school on Thursday I banged on home for a sec to grab some clothes and check to see how much damage had been done. I was basically feeling okay right then, since David had called me out on some stuff, knew about my dad, and obviously didn’t completely hate me since he still wanted to come on this vacation. And really, after how cool he’d been, I really wanted him to come, too. But I held myself back from saying it at the time because wasn’t that exactly how I’d gotten in that part of this predicament in the first place?
    I went to grab a cab outside school, but then I decided that I was still thinking about this hot green corduroy blazer that I’d seen in the window at the Ralph Lauren store at lunch. I was pretty sure that Arno was right and that he couldn’t pull off that kind of bright