chapter one
Iâm late getting home. That sucks because Iâll be in for it. Mom hates it when Iâm late, especially when I donât have a good reason, like now. I was playing street hockey with the guys and didnât notice the time. No big deal, but Iâll hear about how thoughtless I am. How worried she was. How at the very least, I should have called.
I slip into the living room and switch on the TV . Once in a while, if sheâs on thephone or something, I get away with this ploy. If she isnât sure how long Iâve been parked on the couch she lets it go.
It doesnât look good today. Iâve barely landed my butt and Momâs there. I pretend deep interest in the tv, which is useless because Iâm watching a diaper commercial. I brace myself for the usual, but she says nothing. Instead she drops an envelope onto my lap. Itâs one of those big yellow envelopes, and my name is scrawled across the front:
Samuel Connor.
Mom stands over me, her lips pressed tight, her arms folded across her chest.
âWhatâs this?â I ask. âSome garbage from school?â
She shakes her head. âTake a look.â
The envelope isnât sealed so whatever it is, Iâm betting Mom read it. Judging by the look on her face, she didnât like it. But if itâs not a nasty school report, then what else could it be?
Oh, man. Someone must have seen Indi and me doing our thing. They recognized me and reported it to the cops. Thisenvelope is from the cops. They write letters? Wouldnât they just come and hassle me?
I keep cool, reach inside, draw out a sheet of paper. It doesnât have any official emblems. It just looks like a letter, starting with
Dear Samuel
. Weird. No one writes me letters. I shoot another glance at Mom but she hasnât budged. Sheâs just standing there looking like sheâs going to burst.
I look down and catch an odd aroma wafting from the sheet of paper. What is that smell? It triggers a hazy memory. The memory wheels around the edge of my mind but refuses to solidify. It circles, and I donât want it to come closer. Maybe I donât want to read this letter.
Dear Samuel,
I want to make it clear from the start, us not knowing each other anymore is my faultânot yours, not your motherâs. This is your grandfather, Max Connor, writing to you. The last time I saw you was at your fatherâs funeral. You were
only four years old, just a little guy. Do you remember me? Because before that day, we were pals and we spent a lot of time together.
I believe I owe you an explanation for being absent from your life. You see, I went kind of crazy after your dadâs car accident. Your grandmother Connor died too, just six months before your dad, and I figured I had enough of losing the ones I loved. I decided I wasnât going to love anyone ever again. I made myself forget about you and your mom.
Iâve written your mom too and told her how sorry I am for being such a fool. If youâre reading this now itâs because your mom is wiser than I ever was. Ten long years have passed and Iâve finally got to the place where I know I made a very big mistake. Iâve asked her to allow me another chance to be part of your life.
I want to give you something, Samuel. Itâs the most valuable thing I have and I never should have kept it from you. If youâre willing to forgive me and accept
my gift, please follow the instructions youâll find in the second letter. If you want nothing to do with a thickheaded old man like me, well, I understand.
Your Grandpa Max
The smell coming from the paper is pipe tobacco. Grandpa Max smoked a pipe. Two images explode from the past. The first is Grandpa bending over to scoop me up, swing me round and set me up on his big shoulders. The second is him standing apart from everyone in a graveyard, the pipe clamped in his mouth. I remember how I ran to him, expecting to
Iâm late getting home. That sucks because Iâll be in for it. Mom hates it when Iâm late, especially when I donât have a good reason, like now. I was playing street hockey with the guys and didnât notice the time. No big deal, but Iâll hear about how thoughtless I am. How worried she was. How at the very least, I should have called.
I slip into the living room and switch on the TV . Once in a while, if sheâs on thephone or something, I get away with this ploy. If she isnât sure how long Iâve been parked on the couch she lets it go.
It doesnât look good today. Iâve barely landed my butt and Momâs there. I pretend deep interest in the tv, which is useless because Iâm watching a diaper commercial. I brace myself for the usual, but she says nothing. Instead she drops an envelope onto my lap. Itâs one of those big yellow envelopes, and my name is scrawled across the front:
Samuel Connor.
Mom stands over me, her lips pressed tight, her arms folded across her chest.
âWhatâs this?â I ask. âSome garbage from school?â
She shakes her head. âTake a look.â
The envelope isnât sealed so whatever it is, Iâm betting Mom read it. Judging by the look on her face, she didnât like it. But if itâs not a nasty school report, then what else could it be?
Oh, man. Someone must have seen Indi and me doing our thing. They recognized me and reported it to the cops. Thisenvelope is from the cops. They write letters? Wouldnât they just come and hassle me?
I keep cool, reach inside, draw out a sheet of paper. It doesnât have any official emblems. It just looks like a letter, starting with
Dear Samuel
. Weird. No one writes me letters. I shoot another glance at Mom but she hasnât budged. Sheâs just standing there looking like sheâs going to burst.
I look down and catch an odd aroma wafting from the sheet of paper. What is that smell? It triggers a hazy memory. The memory wheels around the edge of my mind but refuses to solidify. It circles, and I donât want it to come closer. Maybe I donât want to read this letter.
Dear Samuel,
I want to make it clear from the start, us not knowing each other anymore is my faultânot yours, not your motherâs. This is your grandfather, Max Connor, writing to you. The last time I saw you was at your fatherâs funeral. You were
only four years old, just a little guy. Do you remember me? Because before that day, we were pals and we spent a lot of time together.
I believe I owe you an explanation for being absent from your life. You see, I went kind of crazy after your dadâs car accident. Your grandmother Connor died too, just six months before your dad, and I figured I had enough of losing the ones I loved. I decided I wasnât going to love anyone ever again. I made myself forget about you and your mom.
Iâve written your mom too and told her how sorry I am for being such a fool. If youâre reading this now itâs because your mom is wiser than I ever was. Ten long years have passed and Iâve finally got to the place where I know I made a very big mistake. Iâve asked her to allow me another chance to be part of your life.
I want to give you something, Samuel. Itâs the most valuable thing I have and I never should have kept it from you. If youâre willing to forgive me and accept
my gift, please follow the instructions youâll find in the second letter. If you want nothing to do with a thickheaded old man like me, well, I understand.
Your Grandpa Max
The smell coming from the paper is pipe tobacco. Grandpa Max smoked a pipe. Two images explode from the past. The first is Grandpa bending over to scoop me up, swing me round and set me up on his big shoulders. The second is him standing apart from everyone in a graveyard, the pipe clamped in his mouth. I remember how I ran to him, expecting to
Similar Books
