"Well, I hope you have a good time there," she says. "And how about your classes, then? Doing well in those? Even if you're going to college later, grades are very important. Especially with how hard it is to get into schools these days!" 

"I've never really had a problem doing well in class. People have been known to accuse me of a superhuman ability to stick to a schedule."

"Oh, well, that's good. Goodness knows the folks at work might need some scheduling help. The number of times I get called in..." she trails off. "But enough about me. Glad to hear you're a good student. All A's and B's, then?" 

She takes a bite of food rather than answer immediately because if she answers immediately she might say something ill-considered.

"I don't think we need to scrutinize her every report card, teacher's note, past dental records, and whatever other past paperwork she has," John's dad says (thank you dad!). "They seal child juvie records for a reason, I'm sure we don't need to know how many murders she may or may not have committed." (Nevermind! No, this is still better.) "How about a lighter topic that should still make my wife happy, what do you get up to for fun? Ignoring more recent developments, I'm sure kissing my son is high up on the list at the moment." (Damnit dad.) 

"Well, besides kissing your son, I mainly like to read books. I'm thinking of writing something myself one day but it's so hard to decide what." With no sign that she might be referencing anything untoward, she adds, "John is very creatively inspiring, though, I love talking about media with him. We had a great conversation about the whys and hows of dystopias after we saw the Hunger Games together."

(John has started to descend once again, turning a bit red with embarrassment at everything Rosy just said: mentioning the kisses, giving him compliments about their conversation, ...obliquely making mention of the spaceship fantasy... Yup, he's very red.) 

"John does a lot of reading too," his mother says. "Though he tends to read mostly science fiction, to the exclusion of all else. You'd think there weren't any other kinds of books in the world! But still, you couldn't stop him from reading when he was younger. He stand at the bulletin board when he came in to work to visit me and read everything, sounding out the big words. It was adorable. I can't believe he's dating now. It feels like that was just yesterday."

"Mom," John says, "I'm 18!" 

"I know dear," she says, but to me you'll always be my baby. And sit up, it's not polite to slouch." 

John sighs, and pulls himself back up. "Sorry mom." 

"Anyways, you said you wanted to be a writer, maybe. No idea what you want to write, at all? No story ideas in mind?" 

"No, the opposite! Too many story ideas! And too high standards. It's so hard to sit down and write when I know I'm not going to do justice to what I see in my mind's eye, even though the only way I'm ever going to get better at writing is by doing it."

"I've always found it's more fun to try things even if I'm no good at them," John's dad says. "You don't have to show it to anyone if you don't like it. Well, you can show it to John, boyfriends are contractually obligated to say nice things about things their girlfriend makes, so you know you'll only ever get compliments. Also, honey, these meatballs are great," he says with a wink. 

John's mother glowers at him, but she's grinning at the same time. "You would be in so much trouble if I didn't know that you were actually telling me the truth," she says, holding back laughter. 

She shakes her head. "Perish the thought. I demand full honesty from my critics, or what's the point?"

John's dad shrugs. "Even if it's honesty you want, we have to tell you in the nicest way possible. It's in the contract. Though I think John specifically would likely do that anyways. Isn't that right, John?"

"Probably," John croaks. He should be eating food and not sitting there horrified. He takes a bite. His parents keep sitting there being... his parents at her, and it's awful, and why did he think this was a good idea? (To make mom happy, that's why.)

"So there you go then. You have a friendly test audience, if you want to use it," John's dad says. He takes another bite of food. 

She shakes her head and eats her food. And looks sympathetically at her turmoiling boyfriend.

John's mother, clearly picking up on the fact that it might be time for another topic (or just wanting to ask Rosy more questions), says, "Well, on another note then, what's it like being in such an important family? Your grandmother's the mayor, goodness gracious, and I don't know if I could count on both hands the number of town committees and parent groups and social well-being councils your mother has a hand in. And not just in name only, every pta meeting and such I've been to is Ishtar this and Mrs. Blake that. How does she do so much and raise a daughter besides?" 

"I do also have a father," she points out.

"Oh, of course, of course, and I'm sure he's lovely," she says, with a wave of her fork, "but he must busy too, and besides, it's not like he's going to be the one to bake you brownies when you're supposed to make them for school and forgot to tell her until the last moment, John," she says, and John winces slightly. "or take you dress shopping, or teach you about boys, or help you with your homework, or any of the other myriad things that mothers do with their daughters and children." Then she cocks her head, like she'd had a thought that hadn't occurred to her before now. "Or does he," she says with sudden fascination. "Does he?" 

"...why on earth wouldn't he???"

"Oh, no reason at all, no reason at all," John's mother says, in a voice that makes John want to slide under the table. 

"I think what my wife means," John's dad says, "is that she's surprised to hear that other dads do things do such things for their children, since we all know how much of that I've been doing ever since John was tiny." 

"Well, yes, but, I'm a doctor, I have to be on call," she says. "But with a daughter..." 

"With a daughter you'd be on call just as much. I know how much your career means to you, and I knew what I was signing up for." He leans over and kisses her softly. "I'm sure Mrs. Blake is very busy too, and appreciates all the help her husband gives her just as much." 

"I suppose," John's mother says with a frown. But then, undeterred, "but you must have so many parties and fundraisers and things going on all the time, and hear about so many things! What's it like, really, having an ear close to all the goings-on in town?" 

"Mostly it instills a deep desire to be farther from all the goings-on in town."

"Oh? I suppose that's why you've decided not to get into politics, then. And your parents don't mind that you're not, well, going into the family business, so to speak?" John's mother says. 

"Of course not. My mother wants me to be the best me I can be, and that means not following in her footsteps if I don't want to."

"That's very kind of her," John's mother says, with a tone that implies she doesn't quite mean it.

"It really is," John's dad adds, with a tone that implies that he does. "More parents should be like that. Otherwise, John would be some sort of hybrid electrician/doctor, like some sort of strange superhero, and then we'd have to spend money on costumes and everything and pretend we don't know who The Defibrillator was when he came up in the news. And if everyone followed in their parents footsteps, you'd be a baker and not a physician, and I'd have never met you." He kisses her on the forehead again. 

"I... but..." she deflates a little. "But--" 

"I'm sure Rosy will figure things out," John's dad says. "She's doing the weird math with him, she'll land somewhere. We don't need to worry about where." He turns to John, "So, how was your day? Ace any tests? Revive any students with heart attacks? Or does Rosy not know about your secret identity yet." 

"Daad," John says. "My day was fine!" 

"Weird math is the best math."

"Okay then," his dad says, turning to John's mom, "since my son doesn't want to talk about his daring adventures as The Defibrillator to protect his family, how about you, honey? Save any lives today?"

"It was a mostly normal day," she says, sighing. "Nobody saved, nobody died. Just people getting hurt or sick and leaving things too long before coming in for help. There was one..." she looks away and sighs. "I shouldn't say. But it wasn't anything unusual." She sighs again. "What about something more interesting than daily life. Since you two had such a good conversation about it, apparently, how was The Hunger Games, last weekend. Since you never told us and I'm probably not going to get a chance to see until it comes out on DVD." 

"It was pretty good! They did a solid job adapting the book. It definitely raises more sociopolitical questions than it answers but that's par for the course in a YA dystopia."

"They put two dozen kids into a giant arena full of weapons and make them kill each other until there's only one left. And also if they do cool things for the camera like have a doomed romance they get to have medicine and food and things. It's awful. They have the technology to do really awesome things, but they use it to oppress most of the population. I suppose it's standard for a YA dystopia, but... I don't know, I really wish the people in charge realize they're making things worse, not better, for everyone in the long run." He looks around and blushes, realizing he's said way more than he usually does around his parents. They... don't seem to be minding, though? He blushes again.