Andrew is fifteen years old. He's been sent to stay with his grandmother for the summer while his parents finish their divorce, but the summer's up and he's still stuck up in Wisconsin. And his best and only friend is a monster.
Shadow lives under a gazebo in the park. She has a body made of spare parts, she seems to be omnipotent, and she likes to play chess. Andrew doesn't tell anybody about Shadow. Nobody listens to him anyway.
Andrew's Uncle Paul comes to town. Andrew didn't know he had an Uncle Paul. Paul knows about Shadow. Paul knows lots of things. Some of them are things he shouldn't know; some of them are things no one should know. And he's interested in teaching.
Unfortunately, Paul isn't stopping by just to say hello. He's being pursued, by people interested in his secrets. People interested in Shadow. And soon, people interested in Andrew.
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CHAPTER 1
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Paul had meant to sleep, just for a little while in case the old man checked in on him, but it was all he could do to lay still. His heart was beating like a jackhammer. It’d been there all day, when he’d woken up in the morning and had breakfast and swept the floor of the library. Today’s the day, today’s the day.
He opened his eyes. His room was dark except for the bright green numbers on his alarm clock. Ten fifty-nine turned over to eleven o’clock. The old man had been asleep for at least an hour. Today’s the day, tonight’s the night. Now’s the time.
He got out of bed. He’d already packed, books and clothes in his briefcase and everything else in the pockets of his jacket. He kneeled down and put his face up close to the doorknob. There was a glyph carved into the brass, nine small circles and another larger one surrounding them. He took a sheet of tracing paper and a piece of yellow chalk out of his pockets, pressed the paper against the doorknob, and followed the pattern with the chalk. He pressed his hand against the paper and said the magic word. His fingertips got warmer; he could feel the electricity flow through his body, down his legs to his toes. When he pulled the paper away, the symbol wasn’t on the doorknob anymore. The metal was smooth, like new.
He got up and opened the door, closed it, opened it, listened for footsteps coming down the hall. Nothing. He smiled so wide that he could feel the strain at the edges of his mouth, ducked back inside, grabbed his briefcase, and crept down the hall to the library room.
| Language | Status |
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Portuguese
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Translation in progress.
Translated by Natassja Schapochnicof
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