Free Breathing Underwater by Alex Flinn

Day.” I’m planning to say I live with Uncle Henry and Aunt Em and our dog, Toto. Scary thing is, people here would believe me.
    Mario consults his class list. “Everyone here?”
    “I ain’t,” Kelly says.
    Mario crosses a name from the list, saying, “Xavier’s no longer with us.”
    “Where’s X-Man?” Tiny asks, cracking his knuckles.
    “County jail for violating his restraining order.” Mario shakes his head. “Let that serve as a cautionary tale for you boys.”
    Mario lets that sink in. Then he pulls a chair up to the circle, turns it backward, and sits. “Today, we’ll be talking about families, our parents in particular.”
    “What’s that got to do with anything?” I ask.
    “All part of a generational cycle,” Mario says. “What happens at home’s the cornerstone of your other relationships.”
    “So if your daddy beats on you, you’ll hit your own kids?” Kelly asks. I look at him, and he curls his lip. I turn away.
    “Not necessarily,” Mario says. “But it’s a risk factor you have to understand and deal with.” Then, before anyone can use any stall tactics, he says, “Now, who’s first?”
    Silence, all eyes on Mario. Usually, when he asks a question, someone will jump in, just to get it over with. But knowing one another makes it both easier and harder to talk, and no one’s touching this one. Especially after what Mario said about generational cycles. Mario’s eyes roll across the circle like a roulette ball. Finally, he stops. He picks his victim.
    “Nick, you live at home. What’s your family like?”
    I shrug, feeling my skin tighten around my forehead. “All right, I guess.”
    “That’s descriptive.”
    “I try.”
    “Try harder. Tell me about your father.”
    “He’s my hero,” I say, then try to swallow. “A self-made man living the American dream.” I’m quoting one of my father’s speeches. Next comes the part about how he came from Greece at sixteen and learned English reading the Miami Herald .
    “What’s he do?”
    “He’s an investment banker. Those are the sharks—the guys who buy the companies in trouble, then sell them off.”
    “Impressive. He must work hard.” Mario walks toward me. “He ever get stressed out?”
    “He’s fine,” I say, squirming. “We get along great.”
    “What about when he gets mad? Everyone gets mad sometimes. What’s he do then?”
    “Not much. Yells sometimes. Doesn’t everyone?” Around the circle, others nod, except Leo, who stares out the window. Do they know I’m lying?
    “A fine relationship.” Mario smiles, walking behind me and putting his hands on my chair back. “How’s he show he loves you, Nick?”
    My stomach tightens, and I remember a long-ago Dolphins game with some lawyer and the lawyer’s son. My father bought me a jersey, even high-fived when the ’Fins scored an overtime field goal. For months after, I’d slept in that shirt. We never went again.
    I say to Mario, “We’re not into that touchy-feely crap.”
    “Sorry to hear that,” he says, touching my shoulder. “Feels good, sometimes, knowing someone cares.” I shrug his hand away. “Make you nervous, talking about your family?” When I don’t answer, he says, “No one makes fun of anyone here, Nick. What about your mother?”
    I stare ahead. “That’s easy. I haven’t seen her since I was five.” I lean back in my chair. “Someone else should talk now.”
    Mario nods, and there’s another silence. Beside me, Leo’s gaze hasn’t left the window. Then Kelly breaks the stillness, pointing at me.
    “My family’s about the same as Rich Boy’s, I reckon, ’cept my daddy ain’t no Mr. Gotbucks banker.” He pulls a sinewy hand through his hair. “He raises me and my sisters though, got a temper, but we get along most of the time.”
    “And the rest of the time?” I ask before I realize my lips have moved. Are other people’s fathers like mine?
    “Like I said, he’s got a temper. Don’t hit us or