Chapter 5
“What do you have to say for yourself, Morrison?”
Wheat—he’d gotten the nickname back in kindergarten, when his hair had been wheat-yellow, and only his parents or those who didn’t know him called him by his birth name—stood before his father’s desk with his hands folded behind his back. He didn’t shift from foot to foot, although he did twist his fingers together out of Father’s sight. Being called to this room always made Wheat feel like a schoolboy being summoned to the principal’s office.
“This is the fifth college you’ve attended.”
That was true. The first had been Brown, and he’d only gotten into that Ivy League college because it was Father’s alma mater and he was extremely friendly with someone high up in the administration. That couldn’t make up for Wheat failing alm
