Trembling, Spencer handed the envelope to Dad. Somehow, he’d managed to avoid peeking the whole bus ride home.

Once opened, a single sheet of paper fluttered out of the envelope and into Dad’s hands.

The paper was thin. Spencer could see what was written through the other side.

His lip trembled.

“All A’s,” Dad said.

Sobs came next.

“We warned you,” Mom said, “Not enough exercise, not enough sweets. Not too fatty or too gamey.”

Spencer knew whatever he said in protest wouldn’t matter. He’d gotten the A grades. Soon enough, the butchers would come collect the good meat.