Free Trophy Kid by Steve Atinsky Page A

looked like
Cwpivge,
which I knew couldn’t possibly be right. Even the numbers were hard to read. Maybe I’d have better luck with a birthday card from an earlier year.
    There was a knock on my bedroom door.
    “Joe, it’s Megan.”
    “Come on in,” I said.
    “I can’t,” Megan said. “No hands.”
    I opened the door, and there was Megan holding a small plate of chocolate chip cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. She was in her late twenties, with naturally red hair.
    “What are you doing?” she asked, handing me the cookies and milk.
    “Nothing. Looking at my birthday cards,” I said honestly.
    “Oh, that’s nice. Do you want to watch the rest of the movie with us?”
    “No,” I said, “I’ve seen it.”
    “Me too, but your sister loves it. Okay, well, come on down if you feel like it.”
    Megan had a
poor Joe, he’s such a lonely kid
look in her eyes, so I smiled and said, “Maybe I will later. Thanks for the snack.”
    I set the cookies and milk down and went back to the door. As soon as I heard the movie start again, I left my room and walked down the stairs as quietly as possible. When I reached the library, I waited for a loud part of the movie and then quickly opened the doors and, once more, went inside.
    I made my way back to the filing cabinets, but every birthday-card envelope from Hana in my folder was the same—well, not exactly the same. The street name on one looked similar to
Cwpivge,
but on another, it seemed to be
Srpiug,
and on another,
Zvviue
. The only consistent letter seemed to be the
i
in the middle.
    Frustrated, I closed the filing cabinet too hard, and moments later Megan opened the library doors. “Joe, what are you doing? You know you’re not supposed to be in here,” Megan said.
    “I…wanted to look at my old birthday cards,” I said, doing my best to cast a look of equal parts guilt and sadness.
    “You should have asked me,” Megan said sympathetically. “I would have gotten them for you.”
    “I didn’t want to bother you,” I lied.
    Megan came and sat with me and started pawing through the filing cabinet.
    “I can’t believe the way your mom saves everything,” she said, shaking her head, “but it comes in handy sometimes, huh?”
    “Yes,” I said, “she even saved all my birthday cards from Hana.”
    “Hana,” Megan said with a puzzled look on her face. “That name sounds familiar.”
    “She was my nanny.”
    “Oh, is that who she is,” Megan said. “I just sent her a thank-you card for your mom.”
    WHAT!
    I was pretty sure that Megan couldn’t have read Hana’s handwritten address any better than I had, which meant that I needed to look in the address book on Greta’s computer.
    “Megan, where are you?” Guava’s voice ricocheted through the house.
    “I’ll be there in a sec!” Megan shouted back. “Here you go,” she said, handing me the thick folder I’d just examined.
    “Thanks,” I said, walking with Megan to the library doors.
    “Why don’t you come and join us in the other room? You can look at your cards in there.”
    I suddenly felt guilty for deceiving Megan into thinking I was looking at the cards because I was feeling sad. But I had to find out Hana’s address without seeming obvious. Otherwise, Megan might say something to Greta and Robert, and then I’d be back in the library, only this time seated across from Robert, who’d be quizzing me on why I wanted to contact my old nanny.
    “No thanks,” I told Megan. “I’d rather go up to my room.”
    “You sure?”
    I knew that Greta’s laptop would be in her and Robert’s bedroom and wanted to get up there as quickly as possible.
    “Megan!” Guava’s shout came curling into the room.
    “Oh, my God, can I come with you?” Megan sighed, closing the library doors behind us.
    “Megan!” Guava shouted again.
    “Coming, darling,” Megan said sweetly.
    Once again, I climbed the stairs and went to my room, but this time only to grab a piece