"dad, can i talk to you?" jeremy asked, walking into the kitchen where something was always cooking. after jeremy's mother died, his father began cooking continuously. "what is it, jeremy?" he asked, setting down the wooden spoon. "i don't want you to freak out," he said first. his dad furrowed his eyebrows and took a seat next to him at the table.
"my friends are leaving," he started. his dad seemed a bit shocked at first, but suppressed it. "when did you make friends? i mean, that's great you did. why didn't you tell me about them?" he asked. jeremy shrugged. "that's beside the point. they're leaving. for good. and i want to go with them," he said, not looking at his dad. "where are they going?" his dad asked.
"i don't know," he mumbled. "i really don't want you to leave, jeremy. it's not safe out there. you could get hurt," his father said. jeremy bit his lip. "i know, dad. but they're my only friends. and i don't want to be here anymore. i want to start over. i want to go somewhere where no one knows me. i want to see the world," he begged. his dad didn't reply. "you're 15 jeremy. you're a kid. why do you want to leave?" he asked. jeremy shrugged. "there's no stopping you, is there?"
"no," he replied. his dad nodded. "i guess i can't stop you. be careful, jerm. i love you. i'll be here when you want to come home. call me sometimes. let me know you're okay," his dad said. jeremy nodded. "i will," he replied. "i love you," jeremy called from the top of the stairs. "what?" his dad yelled back. jeremy shook his head. "nothing."