Free Counterfeit Son by Elaine Marie Alphin

the sailboat in his mind. Pop hadn't cared if he read a book, as long as he dropped it when ordered. Reading was quiet, and that's what Pop had liked.

    "This is my brother Neil," Diana announced, shattering his thoughts.
    Cameron found himself staring at two wide-eyed librarians on the other side of the checkout desk. Up until now he'd been an expert on not being noticed, but apparently Diana had no interest in keeping a low profile. He wished he could dissolve into the shadows.
    "He needs a new library card," Diana went on, looking pleased with the stunned silence she had created.
    "Hi," he told the two women weakly.
    "Come on," Diana said, pulling him away by one sleeve before the librarians could say anything. "We'll pick up your card when we're ready to check out books."
    "Why did you do that?" he muttered, jerking his sleeve loose.
    "What?" she asked, looking innocent.
    "Make a scene like that?"
    Diana turned to him. "You used to always run up to the front desk and say hi—you liked that even more than checking out books. You always liked being the center of attention."
    Cameron met her stare, not caring what Neil would do. "Not anymore. So quit it." She looked surprised, and he went on, "Where are the old newspapers, anyway?"
    She grinned then. "They don't keep old newspapers, dummy. It's all on microfilm."
    She led him to a weird machine with a wide screen, an empty spindle, an empty take-up reel, and a handle for turning them. It sat on a table in the center of the main reading room.

    "Wait here, if you don't want a fuss," she told him, and disappeared through a door in the far wall.
    Cameron looked around nervously and found a similar machine in a corner. He was waiting there when Diana returned in a few minutes with a stack of small boxes.
    "You really can't take the limelight," she said, smiling crookedly.
    Cameron shook his head but didn't say anything. He couldn't bring himself to explain that he couldn't stand having his back exposed to half the room like that. He'd be looking over his shoulder every time somebody walked behind him.
    "Want to read about yourself?" she asked when he said nothing. Cameron shook his head emphatically. He already knew what those articles would say, and he didn't want to read them on a screen. He also didn't want Diana to read them over his shoulder, and maybe make the connection that he only knew the things about Neil that were in the articles.
    "I want to read about the man who went to jail," he told her more firmly than he felt. Cameron studied the pile of boxes dubiously. He'd pictured stacks of yellowing newspapers, or lots of newspaper clippings in file folders, like the ones he'd memorized. He felt unnerved by this strange machine.
    "Okay," Diana said. She opened one of the boxes, deftly slipped the reel onto the empty spindle, and threaded it through the machine and into the take-up reel. Then she switched on the power, and Cameron saw a miniature newspaper spread out on the screen. The print was small, but he could make it out clearly enough.

    "The boxes are dated," she told him. "They arrested the man about two years ago, so the articles should start in this box." She showed him how to scroll the newspaper pages through the reader. "I'll take back these earlier films if you're sure you don't want to read about yourself."
    "I'm positive," he said, scrolling forward until a grainy photograph of Cougar caught his eye, and he shivered involuntarily. Pop hadn't let Cougar do anything to him, although Cameron knew they'd shared some of the other boys. But his stomach lurched as he remembered the two men drinking and laughing. He'd felt Cougar's fist a few times hard on the side of his head when Pop wasn't looking. He remembered Cougar, all right—he remembered the shifting eyes, part mean and part scared, but mostly mean. The paper said his real name was Bill Scott, and he'd been on and off the unemployment rolls since he'd dropped out of high school. He'd been working as a