The boy sat, sullen, staring at his shoes, waiting for the yelling to begin. Only when he finally realized none was forthcoming, and raised his head, did the headmaster speak.
“Peter, why are you here? On Mars, I mean?”
The boy only shrugged, but again the headmaster waited. “My parents came. I don’t have any choice.”
“Now, that’s not true: you could have filed for emancipation, you were old enough.”
“I guess what I’m trying to ask is, you could have been a lazy, good-for-nothing wastrel on Earth; why come all the way out here to do it?”