Like Father, Like Son?

By Naomi Krant

In Like Father, Like Son? everything changes for Tomás, a 16-year-old Peruvian-American, when his young uncle Claudio arrives in the U.S. pursued by a figure from the family’s past. Claudio brings with him a secret that aggravates the tension between Tomás and his father, lays bare his mother’s hidden past, and forces T

• Language: English
• Publisher: Campanula Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2019
• ISBN: 9781734160116

Naomi Krant

Naomi Krant taught ESL to adult for eight years in a community college in Washington State. Before that, she taught EFL to teens through adults in an English language school in Peru. She now lives in Portland, Oregon, with her husband. They have an adult son who they adopted from Peru and two adult daughters. Naomi holds an MFA in creative writing from Boston University. She loves to travel in the U.S. and abroad, to write novels, and to garden.

Book preview

1.  Tomás

Don’t! I try to grab the mouse out of Zack’s hand. But it’s too late. He has already clicked open the email. "You idiot," I say.

That’s funny, because Zack is brilliant. And an idiot.

Shut up, Tomás, he says quietly.

Close the email! Close it! I whisper.

He does.

I shut my eyes and exhale.

We are in the computer lab. Angela, the student supervisor, sits at the check-in desk near the door. We sit on the opposite side of the room.

Zack looks at Angela, then quickly looks away.

She’s watching us, he says. Why did you yell?

You opened a teacher’s email!

Calm down, he says. It’s not a problem.

Not a problem? The system keeps a record of every click we make. They’ll trace us. I keep my voice soft, but it’s an octave higher than my usual level. I don’t know if I’m more pissed off at Zack or at myself. I should have stopped him. We’re screwed, I say.

No, we’re not, he says. Nobody will check. He casually clicks out of the faculty intranet.

Typical. Zack doesn’t believe in trouble. He never worries about stormy weather. He’s always full of sunshine and positive energy. That’s one of the reasons I like him.

But Zack is wrong this time. A week later, my heart pounds as I walk into Vice-Principal Smithson’s office. When I see Papi it pounds so hard that it hurts my chest. I didn’t expect him to be here.

Mr. Smithson is in charge of discipline at Madrone High. He doesn’t say hello. He points to the empty chair.

Your son committed a felony, he tells Papi. I think—I hope—Smithson is just being a jerk.

He will be arrested? Papi asks. His voice is hoarse. He is worried. I feel bad about that.

Smithson makes himself comfortable in his tall, black leather chair. He unbuttons his jacket, smooths his tie. He is enjoying the anxiety in the room.

Papi sits up straight. His big, square hands grip his thighs. I see that he changed out of his work clothes and shaved before he came. Papi grew up in Peru. People there had more respect for schools than we have, although fewer kids graduated. He dropped out to get married and go to work when Mami got pregnant with me.

I slide down in my chair and stretch out my legs.

We don’t know yet if he’ll be arrested, Smithson says. We’re talking with Miss Tripple. It was her email that Tomás hacked.

He speaks as if I am the only one to blame. Right this minute, Zack is waiting outside the door with Officer Turner, the school cop. His dad is late.

I don’t get it, Papi says. For a moment, I think he’s going to ask what hacked means. But that is not what’s on his mind. Tomás was always a good kid.

Smithson narrows his eyes. He studies a paper on his desk…my school record, I guess. It seems to disappoint him.

Honor student, eh? he says, looking at me. "Do you want to explain to your dad what you and Zachery did, and why an honor student would break into a teacher’s computer account?"

Clearly, I’m supposed to squirm.

Searching for your grade? he suggests.

I blink.

I’m not in Tripple’s class, I say.

Smithson checks the paper. Oh. He attacks again. "So explain—why did you do it?"

I cross my arms over my chest. I’m in trouble, yeah. I’m also pissed off. Smithson only wants to embarrass me. He doesn’t understand the position I’ve had in my family since I learned to read English. My parents have depended on me since I was six years old. That was when I translated the page of medical instructions after the doctor sewed up Papi’s leg.

I sigh and turn to face Papi. But words dry up on my tongue.

Papi is examining me as if I were a stranger. I have always seen love and pride in his eyes. Now, I see something that looks like…fear? That makes no sense.

…Uh, I say.

Yes? Smithson says.

I struggle. Well, uh, Zack and I are interested in computer security…in building a security system. So we were, um, testing to see how the school’s security system works.

Testing, Smithson says in a sour voice.

Yeah. And it was ridiculously easy to break through it. I’m starting to warm up now. We didn’t mean to open Miss Tripple’s email account, I say. That was a complete accident.

Parts of my story aren’t true. Accident isn’t the right word.

I’m sorry, I add, with difficulty.

Papi continues to stare at me as if I were someone else, someone he doesn’t like. Someone he fears? My gut tightens. Papi has been angry with me before, of course, but this is different. He doesn’t believe me, I realize.

The security system is not there for students to play with, Smithson snaps.

He turns to Papi. Thank you for coming in, Mr. Vargas, he says. A lot of parents don’t care when their kids get in trouble. He clears his throat. I encourage you to follow through with Tomás. He needs to take the rules seriously.

I agree, Papi says. It’s clear whose side he is on. Not mine, not any more.

Smithson suspends me for five days. Later, Papi grounds me off the computer for a month. A month! I am only allowed to do my homework on the computer. Nothing else.

That hurts, but I know I deserve it. Zack and I got out of control. Some of the responsibility was mine.

But then Papi let his friend from church, Mr. Sanchez, install a parental control program on the computer. He showed Papi how to track everything I do. I wasn’t going to disobey him. I wasn’t going to use the computer for games or to work on the app that Zack and I are building. But Papi doesn’t trust me anymore.

That hurts much more, in a deeper way.

2.  Tomás

A cold Western Washington rain murmurs through the gutters outside my bedroom window. In the big room of our second-floor apartment, Mami sits at the table, bent over the box of tiny beads she makes into jewelry to sell. Papi watches soccer from his lounger, a beer in the cup holder on the armrest. My little sister Sofia plays pretend on the floor of her closet. She’s eight, but sometimes she still plays like a little kid. I lie on my bed. For two weeks now, I have been lying here every night after I finish my homework.  I don’t look at the dark computer on my desk.

Papi also wants me to stop working with Zack. I haven’t told Zack that. When he texts me about our app, I just answer, Interesting. Without a computer, I can’t work on any of his ideas, anyway.

I want to text Rebecca again. She’s been sympathetic. She’s been great. But we already chatted this evening. I don’t want to seem needy.

And then, someone knocks on the apartment door.

I get up and poke my head out of my bedroom.

A neighbor? Mami murmurs. She speaks in Spanish, as we do at home. Maybe someone needs help. She looks at Papi.

Maybe Cousin Bernardo, he says. He starts to stand up, but Mami is already halfway to the door.

Wait a minute, Bea, Papi says, but she doesn’t. She turns on the outside light and pulls the door open.

A slim young man stands there. His round, wire-rimmed glasses reflect the cold light from the bulb outside our door. His shoulders sag. Water drips from the bottom of his thin jacket.

For a long moment, Mami doesn’t move.

Bea, the man says. It’s not a question.

Claudio...? Oh, Claudio! She throws her arms around him, pulls him inside. He has no bags, nothing. As Mami pull him to the table, I glance at Papi’s face—pure shock.

"You’re here? How can