I ask. “Counting this time? Seven,” my dad says. “Or maybe eight.” “Why?” I ask. “It’s always for a good cause. Or it starts out that way, anyway.” Mom sounds tired. “Save the coral reefs. Save the rain forest. Save the whales. But Mike always takes it a step further. Protesting isn’t enough for him. He gets carried away. Does stupid things. Trespassing, vandalism, a couple of fights. The last time he had court-ordered angermanagement classes. We thought things were better. He was in a relationship—” Taking a dump on someone’s desk. Trashing an office. Suddenly it all makes sense. In a totally horrible way. Mike’s always been kinda out there, but violence? I couldn’t get my head around it. “He’s out of control, Rachel.” Dad pours himself a cup of coffee and puts the kettle on for Mom’s tea. “We can’t keep bailing him out. He has to figure it out himself.” “But…jail?” Mom’s eyes fill with tears. “They won’t keep him long,” Dad says.
