Emily grinned at Dad as he stood up. “I think Sam has a point.” “See, old man,” Sam said. “If a senior agrees with me, I must be right.” Dad, with a humoured grunt, stacked a pile of plates in the sink and leaned against the counter. “Well, I happen to know that this particular senior is an A grade student because she doesn’t play video games.” He motioned a hand to Emily, who sat taller—bristling with pride. “Dad.” Sam smirked. “Emily’s only an A grade student because she has a cru—” “Good work ethic,” I cut in, sure Sam was about to say “crush on her teacher.” Sam bit his lip, offering Emily an apologetic look; she just shook her head, picking the pineapple off her pizza. “If only a good work ethic was addictive—like those video games you play, Samuel.” Dad sat back down at the table. “The fact is, my boy, you have an example to set for the other students, being that you’re a—” “Teacher’s kid. I know, I know.” Sam rolled his eyes.
