“You took a government job because you couldn’t make it in private business,” Derek said, his voice sharp and flat.

“The Army gives you a bed and three meals a day because nobody in the real world would pay you real money.”

“You have thirty thousand dollars in credit card debt that Mom is hiding from Dad,” I said.

Derek’s right foot tapped three quick beats on the damp asphalt.

“Prove it,” Derek said.

“I saw the bank draft stubs in Dad’s desk drawer,” I said.

Derek sneered and opened his car door.