It was Visiting Day. The entire school had exploded into parade of sulky faced and excited teenagers in the company of their older much experienced-on-life selves.
Who could blame them, no adolescent enjoyed having their parents walking in and throwing the past month under high scrutiny of their grades and activities; combing through and criticizing every single aspect of the education we received.
I had been dreading it since the day I had arrived back in Saint-Ambrose.
My Dad was much like me, a paranoid control freak who had to have tabs on everyone and everything at all times.
I had half expected him to make an impromptu drop-in or call through the principal or my teachers, to check up on me.
I had thought, prayed and hoped that he would forego those habits but with my not-so-
