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Show 27 SIX It hadn't been Parker's idea to have the writing class meet at his place. No way! C. Parker, your basic social klutz, was averse to social gatherings. Why, he could disappear from a party any time, leaving his body still plainly visible. It was crazy. He was a law unto himself. Embodied, but disengaged, he could come and go at will and nobody ever missed him. "We'll have chips and dips," his mother's voice interrupted his musings at the breakfast table. She'd launched into the planning with her customary zeal. "And pizza. Teenagers love pizza. What does everyone drink, dear?" Parker looked at her quizzically. Did she really want an answer to that one? "We'd better have an assortment of drinks," she decided for him, missing the humor, "and coffee for Mrs. Simpson if she wants it. Do you think she'll swim with the rest of you?" Parker wondered that himself the following Sunday as he vacuumed the last strip at the shallow end of the pool. It was Mrs. Simpson who suggested the extra planning session, but it was the kids who came up with the idea of a Sunday plunge. When Jan had so generously offered his place- "they have a pool, you know"-Parker had cringed. Jan herself had learned to swim with him, the year that Parker's older sister gave lessons to the neighbor kid6. Part-porpoise, she'd surfaced and plunged like no six-year- old in the class, propelled by fins as big as she was. Ever since that time she'd taken a proprietary interest in the pool. On this occasion she threw in an endorsement of his parents as well: "Parker's folks are super! They'd love to have us meet there." He'd merely shrugged when they all turned to look at him. What could he 8ay7 So here he was, cleaning the filter basket, backwashing, hosing the deck, wishing he didn't have to waste this beautiful October Sunday entertaining, for hell's sake! It just wasn't his bag. It wasn't his father's, either. Craig Parker, Sr., had found himself suddenly overwhelmed with a backlog of work. "Save me some pizza," he'd |