Happy Driving, Dear Taaa-ahmmm—" (pause)
"Happy Driving to—" (flourish) "—You!"
An explosion of laughter. A descent of beaming faces, a thrusting forward of hands.
Mom reached him first. Her small face was pale under its thin coat of make-up. Her firm, rounded body was like a girl's in its dress of swishing Martian silk, yet her blue eyes were sad and her voice held a trembling fear:
"You passed, Tom?" Softly.
Tom's upper lip twitched. Was she afraid that he'd passed the tests—or that he hadn't! He wasn't sure.
Before he could answer, Dad broke in, hilariously. "Everybody passes these days excepts idiots and cripples!"
Tom tried to join the chorus of laughter.
Dad said, more softly, "You did pass, didn't you?"
"I passed," said Tom, forcing a smile. "But, Dad, I didn't want a surprise party. Really, I—"