Free The Crossroads by Chris Grabenstein Page A

Man—they were so blue. Like the plates at the diner.
    â€œSo, plumber—what’s your name?”
    â€œBilly.”
    â€œBilly what?”
    â€œO’Claire.”
    That seemed to startle the man.
    â€œYou from around here?” he asked.
    â€œLived here my whole life.”
    â€œAnd you say you’re an O’Claire?”
    â€œBeen one of those my whole life, too.”
    â€œWhat’s your father’s name?”
    â€œTommy O’Claire.”
    â€œNever heard of him.”
    â€œHe died a long time ago. Maybe you know my Mee Maw.”
    â€œYour what?”
    â€œMy grandmother. Mary O’Claire.”
    Now the strange dude looked angry.
    â€œMary O’Claire? Is her family from up near Spencer?”
    â€œI don’t know. I could ask her, I guess.”
    â€œShe’s alive? She didn’t die in 1958?”
    Billy laughed. “Well, uh, no—I don’t think so. I just saw her the other day and she didn’t look dead.”
    The man with the plastered-back hair leaned closer to the door.
    â€œYou’re a wisenheimer, hunh?”
    â€œA what?”
    â€œWhere can I find her? Where’s young Mary O’Claire hiding?”
    â€œYoung?” This guy was cracking Billy up. “I told you, dude—she’s my
grandmother
. She lives in the old folks home. Guess what? That means she’s
old
.”
    The guy made the pupils floating inside his eyes go wider, turned them into hypnotic sinkholes. Billy felt drowsy, like he needed to take a nap.
    He felt like a burger-craving zombie again.
    A zombie who would do anything this guy asked him to.
    Anything at all.

“So what do you want to do today, sweetie?”
    On Monday morning, Judy and Zack ate cereal in the breakfast nook. His father had left for the train station and the commute to his law firm in New York City long before either one of them was awake. It was their first morning alone together in the big house. They were sticking to cold breakfast foods. Judy had almost started another fire using aluminum foil in the microwave.
    â€œNothing,” Zack said, slurping his cereal. “Probably just, you know, hang out with Davy.”
    â€œWho’s Davy?”
    â€œThis guy I met.”
    â€œReally? Does he live around here?”
    â€œYep. Right across the highway. On the farm.”
    â€œHave fun, but be careful, okay?”
    â€œWe will.”
    Judy tried to remember all the things her mother used to say when she went outside to play.
    â€œLook both ways if you cross the street. Don’t run around with scissors. And…”
    â€œI won’t take any candy from strangers.”
    â€œGood. I knew I forgot one.”
    Â 
    â€œSo Judy’s your stepmother, hunh?” Davy asked while Zack hammered a two-by-four into the tree.
    They had decided to go ahead and build a tree house. Zack had found a few boards piled up in the garage—wood left over from when the house was built.
    â€œYeah,” Zack said, “she’s kind of new at it and all. But she’s not wicked or anything. Not like the stepmothers in Disney cartoons.”
    â€œWell, that’s good,” Davy said. “Where’s your real mom?”
    â€œDead.”
    â€œSorry, pardner. I didn’t know. I just figured your folks got divorced or what have you.”
    â€œShe had cancer. Smoked too many cigarettes.”
    â€œDang coffin nails. Reckon you miss her, hunh?”
    â€œI guess,” Zack said, but then he realized that maybe he could tell Davy the truth. “Well, actually, I don’t really miss her all that much.”
    â€œIs that so?”
    Zack shrugged. “My mother never really liked me.”
    â€œI see.”
    â€œShe used to say I ruined her life.”
    â€œDang.”
    â€œThat’s why she always wanted to run away from home. Sometimes she would, too. She’d rent a room in a hotel and disappear for a couple