89

GLYNDON I’m the worst sneak alive. But when I arrive at our family’s mansion at night, I manage to slip inside without waking anyone. It helps that I know the security code. What doesn’t help, however, is the lights that keep going on automatically whenever I move. Jeez. However, I manage to steal a tub of ice cream and hide behind the table in the ballroom. This small nook is as safe as it can get. It reminds me of when I was running around in Grandpa’s house as a kid, how he carried me on his shoulders, told me stories, and taught me chess. The light stays on, but it’ll be off in about a minute. Opening the ice cream, cherries and chocolate, my favorite—because I’m the only one who eats it around here—I stuff my mouth with two spoonfuls that hurt my teeth. But I do it again. And again. Tears start to gather in my eyes, but I refuse to let them out. I cried on and off on the flight back home until my head hurt and the flight attendant looked at me as if I were a freak. I stayed in the