Brendan Buckley's Universe and Sundee T. Frazier

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.The massage-machine line must have been too long.“Gladys, look!” I held up the calcite.“I’m going to have my own collection!”The man turned around with a green paper in his hand.It said PUYALLUP ROCK CLUB across the top.“Come to this if you want to meet some other collectors.” He pointed to the bottom of the paper.“My name and number—”Gladys gasped.Her jaw had gone limp and her tongue was hanging out.The man looked up.His eyes moved back and forth a couple of times between us.Gladys grabbed the flyer.She squawked like a startled hen.“Not interested.” She plucked the rock from my hand and dropped it on the table.The piece of green paper fluttered to the ground.She yanked on my arm, but I broke free and stooped to pick up the flyer.The man stood frozen, staring at us like one of the wax dummies I saw in Hollywood when we visited my cousins in Los Angeles.Gladys grabbed my arm again and pulled me away.What was she doing?“Ow.You’re pinching me.What’s going on?”She kept moving forward, herky-jerky.“Your mama’s gonna have a fit.”We walked around the fountain.The man was out of sight.“Why did you say I wasn’t interested? I am!” I wanted to run back and buy my calcite, but Gladys’s grip was firm.We kept walking, as fast as Gladys could walk, which was pretty fast.She huffed and muttered about how she couldn’t believe it and what were the chances and Katherine was going to be beside herself.At the next empty bench, Gladys finally stopped and dropped.She held her purse in her lap and pulled me onto the seat beside her.She breathed hard.“Holy Moses.”I slumped on the bench and looked back at the exhibit.The fountain sounded like static.“Of course you were going to run into him at some point.But why with me? I’ve tried to stay out of it.” She was still talking to herself.I stared at her.Who was she talking about? I lifted the flyer and looked for the man’s name.ED DEBOSE, CLUB PRESIDENT.DeBose.That was Mom’s name before she got married.That was my dead grandmother’s last name.I started putting it together.Could it really be? Why else would Gladys be acting so weird?I suddenly felt like I’d swallowed a bunch of rocks.That man was my grandpa.The grandpa I’d never met.The grandpa who was “gone.”CHAPTER 3On Tuesday morning, Dad came into my room early to say goodbye before leaving for work.He said something about my do bok, then ruffled my hair and kissed my head.I went back to sleep.When I woke up again, I had the Jitters.The Jitters is what happens before I know something, but after I realize I don’t know it.Gladys says I get ants in my pants.I think of it as an electrical storm going off in my body.When I get the Jitters, my stomach feels like it’s full of fizzy root beer, and the top of my head and tips of my fingers go all tingly, and my eyes get all blinky, and if I’m eating something, my mouth starts to chew more quickly.I try to control myself like Tae Kwon Do tenet number four says I should, but I can’t help these things.They just happen.And they don’t totally go away until I find some kind of answer to my question.My Big Question today: Where had Ed DeBose been all these years? He wasn’t gone at all.He was the president of a local rock club.So why had I never met him?My stomach fizzed.A minitornado swirled inside me.I had spoken to my grandpa for the first time yesterday, and he hadn’t even known who I was.Thinking of that stranger at the mall as Grandpa made my brain feel like it was short-circuiting.I got out of bed.My do bok was lying on the closet floor, where I had thrown it the night before, after practice.I smoothed the pants against my leg, trying to get out the wrinkles.I hung up the jacket and strung my blue belt around the hanger.Practice had gone only okay—it was a little sloppy because I kept thinking about Ed DeBose.I hadn’t said anything to Khalfani because before class and after, Dad was right there, and when we’re inside the dojang, we’re not supposed to talk.I pulled on a T-shirt and some shorts and went in search of Mom.She only works part-time, and today was one of her at-home days.She sat at her desk scribbling in the checkbook.When she saw me, she held out an arm and squeezed me around the waist.“I was just thinking about when you were in kindergarten and the teacher said you were going to learn how to write checks.Remember?”How could I forget? Mom loved bringing up that story—especially when she and Dad had friends over for dinner.I rubbed my eyes, which were still blinky on account of the Jitters.“I thought it was sort of advanced for our age,” I said, yawning.“But I was ready to try.” Of course, the teacher meant making checkmarks, not filling out actual checks like my parents did.That was a major letdown.Mom laughed.“What do you want to do today?”“Can I go to Khalfani’s?”“Sure, if it’s okay with his mom.”“It is [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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