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312 pages, Hardcover
First published May 10, 2012
“Except for that, everything is going great. Well," I added. “There’s been a murder and we’re out of soup."
“They’ll try me as an adult. I know they will,” he said, his voice bitter. “I’ll get twenty years at least. I’ll be...” His eyes glazed over as he tried to add.
“Thirty-one?” I guessed, locking the door behind him.
“Thirty-one,” he wailed, sinking to the floor. “That’s almost dead.”
...
I sighed and opened my order pad. “We’ll need an official description.”
“Cat,” Thes said. “ Orange hair, green eyes, chunky body.”
Spitz, I wrote. Looks like Thes.
Dear Upstream Mother,
Miss Retzyl claims my vast experience in discovering where you’re not helps me zero in on you. But frankly, my map can’t hold many more pushpins. Neither can my heart. 11 years is a long time to search. Drop me a line or pick up the phone. I’m on the verge of puberty.
Mo
…
We’re throwing a funeral for Mr. Jesse. You’re invited. I’ll look for you there, just like I look for you everywhere. Last week, in Kinston, a woman stared back at me and I thought it might be you.
I glanced out the window, Mr. Jesse’s lights flickering a couple hundred yards down the creek, like they had every night of my life.
It’s funny, the things you think you'll always see again.
…
“Congratulations on achieving your dream,” she told Lavender. “That must feel great.”
Lavender spooned green onions onto his turnip greens. “It does, but dreams are shape shifters. Get close, and before you can lay a hand on them, they change.”