I told my teacher my dad was a boss. He is the boss of a whole truck, a truck big enough to fit dozens of me. “Look,” I tell my dad, holding out the career day flyer, “You could come.” Maybe they’d pay my dad if he spoke to my class. He was always talking about saving money. My dad ran his hand over his poppy-stubble beard, grabbed the flyer, and threw it in the back of the truck. “Just more garbage,” he said.