Wild I was 16 when my father finally decided he would send me to wilderness camp for several months. He had threatened to do it many times before, but my mother had always managed to prevent him from doing so. This time he insisted on doing it. The latest incident was the last straw. Impulsively , I hade pushed Mr. Ford, my math teacher, down a flight of steps at school. He broke his arm in two places. Anyway, he had agreed not to accuse me as a favour to my dad, who was in the middle of a tight race for sheriff  in our town. But my _ behaviour had my dad's closest advisor talking. "John, he's your son and he's a kid, but he is dragging you down," I heard Jake Hutch tell my dad through his closed office door the night after I pushed Mr. Ford. "If you can't make your son obey the rules, how can you make the law obeyed in this town?" So, off to Pisgah National Forest I went. I imagined hours of untold abuse at the hands of some strong sergeants . I was determined no to be broken. I was who I was. Nearly every day for six months, a small group of other troubled teens and I carried our 30-pound backpacks on a difficult journey covering about 10 miles. We hiked in a rough wilderness that seemed untouched by civilization. Our sergeants were firm but kind, not frightening as I had imagined. We learned how to make a fire without matches and create a shelter with branches and grass. We learned which plants were safe to eat out in the wild. I felt myself change. I was calm and often reflective. My old, impulsive self was gone. One morning, six months later, my dad came to pick me up. I ran to hug him and saw relief and love in his eyes. "So what's it like being sheriff?" I asked on the ride home. "I lost the race, Danny," he said. "I'm sorry, Dad." I knew my behaviour probably had a lot to do with hid defeat. Dad squeezed my shoulder and brought me close. "As long as I don't ever lose you, I'm okay." How did the author's father feel at the end of the story?
Grateful. Annoyed. Disappointed Relieved