Cruise Control

Cover Cruise Control
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Genres: Fiction
Wonderful.
Mom warned me this might happen. And now I’m sitting in a classroom where there’s this clear view of the main entrance to the school and Papa Butt Munch is making his typical grand entry right where I have to look at him. Of course, as he walks, he’s talking on his cell phone—what an idiot.
Some of the kids in class glance out and see him too. Because of his Pulitzer Prize, Dad’s on TV pretty often, so a lot of people recognize him. Right now he also happens to have some guy carrying
... a big metal suitcase in one hand and a huge TV camera in the other trailing along right behind him. Way to go, Dad—now everyone is sure to realize what a truly big, big, BIG-time celebrity you are—a legend in your own mind.
A soft murmur starts swirling around the room. I keep my eyes glued to the copy of Time magazine that Mr. Jenkins gave us. About half the class watches this ridiculous Sydney-McDaniel-Famous-Prima-Donna routine. Even Mr. Jenkins is looking.
I swear to God, if anybody mentions that he’s my dad, I’ll nail ’em.
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