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We'd heard this song; “Candle Ice;” pouring out of my brothers' bedroom at least a million

times; so we were used to it。 But I looked over at my

mom; worried that she might be embarrassed by the distorting guitars and the gritty lyrics。

This was definitely not caviar music。

She seemed a little uncertain; but in a happy way。 She was sharing secret smiles with my

father; and honestly; I think she even giggled。 My dad

was looking amused; although he was very reserved about it; and it took me until the end of

the song to realize that he was proud。 Proud that this

noise came from his boys。

That surprised me。 Dad has never been real big on any rendition of my brothers' band;

although he's never really criticized it either。 But then Mr。

Loski started grilling Matt and Mike about how they'd afforded to record their own music; and

they explained about working and saving and

shopping for good deals on equipment; and that's when I realized why my father was proud。

My brothers were feeling pretty good; too; you could tell。 And it was no wonder; with the way

Lyta was carrying on about how great “Candle

Ice” was。 She was positively gushing; which seemed very odd; ing from Lyta。

As I looked around; it struck me that we were having dinner with a group of strangers。 We'd

lived across the street for years; but I didn't know

these people at all。 Lyta did know how to smile。 Mr。 Loski was clean and smooth on the

outside; but there was a distinct whiff of something rotten

buried just beneath the surface。 And the ever…efficient Mrs。 Loski seemed flustered; almost

hyper。 Was it having us over that was making her

nervous?

The

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