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