The two boys sat on the swings in the park, Zack swinging lazily, Freddy going fast enough to skim his heels over the ground.

"So," said Zack sceptically, "what's all this about," he checked the paper, "Not Mine No More?"

"Exactly what it says," Freddy said quietly, not feeling like he had to explain himself to Zack. "He's not mine no more."

"Who's not yours?"

"My dad."

"What, has he disowned you, or something? Let me guess – you're adopted. Freddy, we've already been through all this a thousand times, checked your birth certificate and everything. Your parents are your real ones, so think yourself lucky."

"No, they're not," said Freddy stubbornly.

"Look, dude, I know you think it'd be all cool and rockin' to be adopted, or whatever, but it's really not that important, so quit the acting, ok?" said Zack with a patronizing smile.

Freddy jumped off the swing, landing on his knees, and grazing them badly. He stood up, and the blood began to dribble out of the cuts. "I'm not acting! You don't know what I know! My dad is not my dad!"

"Freddy -"

"Shut up, Zack! Shut up!" yelled Freddy. Zack wasn't smiling anymore, he looked frightened. "It's ok for you! Sure, your dad hit you, and sure he banned you from the band, but at least he was your real dad! Your mom never lied to you for fifteen years! Nearly sixteen years! Just think of that, Zack! The guy you've grown up with forever, the guy you've lived with all your life, the guy who put you to bed at night, who taught you how to ride your first bike, who took you to your first baseball game – he's nothing to do with you! NOTHING! NOTHING! NOTHING!" Freddy screamed the last word, then stopped at last, breathing heavily, his whole body racked with sobs.

Zack got off the swing, and walked over to Freddy. He just stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say. What can you say when your best friend tells you something like that? What is there to say?


"You want to trace your father?" asked the blonde woman behind the counter, filing her nails. They reminded Freddy of claws, they were so red, and shiny, and pointy. Zack nudged him impatiently.

"Y-Yes," said Freddy. "Yeah, I do."

"Mm-hmm," she said, going over to her computer. "So, first name of father?"

Freddy knew this one, he'd got as much information out of his mom as possible. She, of course, thought it was just because he was curious. She had no idea about all this, and just wanted him to forget it and move on.

"William," he said. "First name William."

"And last name?"

"Hutchinson."

"Right..." She tapped a few keys. "Age?"

"Um... About 47."

"47, did you say?"

"Yeah."

"Good, and any other information? Hair color, eye color, job...?"

"Well, he had blonde hair, and blue eyes, and I think --" Freddy screwed up his face in an effort to remember, "I think he was an accountant."

"I see. Is he currently married?"

"I-I don't know." Freddy gave Zack a panicked look: he hadn't thought of that. What if this William Hutchinson was married, and had kids, and didn't want to hear about Freddy?

"Any distinguishing features?"

"Yeah... He has a scar on the right of his neck, in a kinda triangular shape."

"Where abouts is he living now, do you know?"

"Well... Last time we heard of him, he was living in New York City, but he could've moved, I guess..."

"Is that all?"

"Yeah, yeah, that's it."

"Ok then. Can I have your name, address and phone number. You are sixteen, I assume?"

"Yup." The way Freddy saw it, if his mom had lied to him about his whole life then she wouldn't be that bothered if he lied about his age. He gave the woman the rest of the information (aww, did you think I'd let you find out his address and phone number?) and him and Zack left, after she promised to get in touch as soon as she found anything.


Hey, Journal, it's me again. You know what? I just figured something else out. I'm not a Jones. I'm not Freddy Jones. I mean, my dad – Eddie Jones, the guy who's been living with us is, and my mom is because she married him, but I'm not. He's nothing to do with me. And I'm not a Hutchinson, either. Frederick David Hutchinson. Freddy Hutchinson. That's not my name. That's not me. I guess I could be a Freeman (my mom's maiden name), but I mean, come on. Freddy Freeman? No way. That would just be cruel. So I guess now I'm not anything. Freddy David Blank. That's how I feel, too. Blank.

I suppose I should feel angry, sad, excited even... but no. I don't feel anything. And I know my friends can tell. Even Zack's been avoiding me. Of course, he says he hasn't. He says I'm paranoid. Depressed and paranoid. Who knows? He could be right. But if you're depressed, don't you need to feel something? Like, overwhelming sadness, or something. I had this friend once, when she ate chocolate she got really hyper for about half an hour, and then really, really depressed. And when she was depressed, she said she felt lonely, and sad. But I don't. So I know I'm not depressed.

And I just thought of another thing, too. Gramps. Gramps and Nonna are no relation to me, either. That quiet old man, that smiling lady. Nothing. To do. With me. The only person I have is my mom, and I don't want her. So I guess it's true now – I have no-one. Not even Janey. Ah, yes. Another thing gone in my life. As if it's not enough that I have no father, and no friends, now I have no girlfriend either. If I was depressed, at least I'd have some good reasons.

I've got to go now, Mom says there's some girl on the phone for me. I'm still in my room, I have been ever since I found out. I haven't spoken to Mom since then. I haven't spoken to Mr Jones since then. That's what I'm calling him now, as Guy Who Just Lives With Me, and Guy Who's Not My Dad, and Guy Who's A Stranger are all too long to write.

Well, I really will see you later now.

Freddy David Blank.