6. Refusal
When Jeremiah came back from work, his mind blurred and his body aching, he was cuffed from behind by his father and dragged to a corner. Without preamble, his father took out a letter and demanded, "What da 'ell is dis?"
Jeremiah's eyes widened momentarily – the envelope might hold the keys to his hopes and dreams – but he quickly schooled his face in a more neutral expression. "A letter from the Academy," he said evenly. "Didn't you see the crest?"
Venir's face formed a tight scowl, and Jeremiah sensed danger coming if he kept pushing.
"What's i' for, then? Messenger said it's fer you. Dressed up like a peacock like yew was someone impawtant."
"Mother already read it for you." He didn't need to be a genius to know that.
"Thee fnk I'd invade yar privacy?" Venir smiled his horrible smile, his breath near Jeremiah's face. He smelled alcohol. "Why, son, yew 'ave so little faif in me. Fine. I read it. Said 'ere yew won some scholarship –" Jeremiah's heart leapt –" but that's impossible." Venir glares at him. I say ter myself, Venir, yaaahr son can't 'ave won some scholarship. He's as fck as two bricks, an' besides, 'e wouldn't even en'er. So tell me, Jeremiah, why dis paper is 'ere?"
"Because I passed." Jeremiah answers clearly. Steadily. Proudly. He was so close to freedom, he didn't care who knew it. "And I'm going."
For a moment, Venir swayed drunkenly. His eyes glazed. Then he laughed. He laughed long and hard, and Jeremiah watched him, stunned. Before he could react, his father's hand reached out and snatched his wrist. His intoxicated façade was gone. "No, yer not."