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Shatter

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"So, any news on the 'Canada Incident'?" Lucas asked, adding finger quotes to the term he'd assigned to our disastrous trip.

I take a handful of popcorn and hand the bowl down to where he's sprawled on the living room floor. I'm sitting sideways in the chair above him, my legs hanging over the side. Ever since we got back I've had been ordered not to leave the apartment except for school. He takes the bowl and sits it down beside him. He reaches the remote to the stereo up to me and I change the CD from Billy Holiday to Blondie.

"No. I've hardly seen him since we got back. It's almost like he's avoiding me."

"I've never seen my dad that angry." I add after a brief pause.

"What about when we painted over his cover of Abbey Road?" Lucas asks, raising his head slightly to look at me.

"That was different. He yelled a lot that time. This was…scarier. I swear I thought he was gonna hit him."

"Here all this time I thought your dad was a pacifist." he mumbles around a mouth full of popcorn.

"There's bad blood there. I can feel it."

Lucas raises himself up fully, his dark hair flopping into his eyes. "'Not long enough'? Come on Lane, that is way more than bad blood. That's serious badness."

The doorbell chimes before I can respond, and I get up to answer it. Out of the corner of my eye I see Lucas grab the remote off the chair and hit pause so he can listen.

I open the door to see a boy about twelve standing there, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He looks familiar, but I can't place him. Maybe he lives in the building. How else would he get in? We've got TIGHT security.

"Can I help you?"

"Does uh, Jamie Andrews live here?" he stammers.

He must be a fan. Looks like I'm gonna have to have another little chat with the doorman.

"Yes, he does. But he's not here right now. You can leave your name and address with me and I'll make sure he sends you an autograph or whatever." I grab a pen and a notepad from the hall table and hand it to him.

"That's not why I'm here." he says quickly.

"You're not a fan?"

"No. I mean yes. I am a fan," he says, "but that's not why I'm here."

Now I'm getting a bit miffed. This kid is seriously cutting into my lazy time with Lucas. "Then why are you here?"

"I'd rather tell him."

"I already told you he's not here."

"Can I wait?" he asks. He looks up at me with big blue eyes full of hope and something like sadness. I can't say no.

"Fine." I agree and hold the door open. "But don't steal, or break, anything."

He nods and follows me into the living room. Lucas stands and eyes him suspiciously before giving me The Look. "Lane, can I talk to you for a second?"

We go into the kitchen and he whispers urgently "What are you doing? Number one rule: you never let your dad's fans in. Even I know that. Remember the woman who tried to smuggle out the garbage?"

"Lucas, he's a kid. And there's something about him. He says he needs to talk to my dad. I can just tell it's important."

"You can tell?" he says in disbelief. "How?"

"There's something in his eyes. Besides, he looks really familiar."

"You know, one of these days your lifeless body will be found because of this nice streak of yours. What kind of New Yorker are you? Where's the cynicism?"

"You have enough for the both of us." I pat his cheek and walked back to the living room. Can't leave the kid alone for too long.

He's gazing in awe at my dad's music collection. It is pretty impressive. The entire living room is floor to ceiling shelves and cabinets stocked with records, CD's, and DVD's, broken only by the massive stereo system in the center. The television is in the den with all the film DVD's. These are all concerts and videos.

"This is incredible." he whispers.

"Yeah, it is." I say, crossing my arms over my chest.

The boy starts and looks over at us, hitching his backpack higher on his shoulder. He looks so scared. I feel myself soften against my will.

"What's your name?"

"Miles."

We all sit down, him in my vacated chair and Lucas and I on the couch opposite it. "You want something to drink? Eat?" I ask. He shakes his and keeps looking around.

"So, Miles," Lucas says after several painfully silent moments, "how old are you?"

"Twelve." he answers shortly.

"Twelve? Do your parents have any idea where you are?" I ask.

"No. My Dad was at work when I left. But he'll figure it out. I used his credit card to buy my ticket." he confessed.

"Ticket?" Lucas sounded majorly confused.

"I live in Toronto."

"You flew all the way here to meet my dad without telling your parents? Why?"

He looks oddly upset. "You don't remember me?"

I look at Lucas to see if he knows what Miles is talking about, but he just shrugs. "Should I?"

"I saw you at the festival in Halifax." he explains.

Now I know why he looks so familiar.

"You're Tom Quincy's son. I saw you with him when we were leaving."

"What are you doing here?" Lucas blurts out. I smack him on the arm, but he ignores me. "I didn't exactly get the vibe that your father was a big fan of Mr. Andrews's."

"That's what I have to talk to him about." Miles says.

"I've already tried. He won't talk about it." I tell him.

He kind of deflates just then but the sound of the door opening makes him sit up straight in his seat.

"Lane, honey, you home?" his voice calls out.

"In here Dad." I yell back.

He walks I with a pizza and what looks like garlic bread. "Hi sweetie. Hey Lucas, you staying for dinner?"

"Like I would ever say no." Lucas says.

My dad's eyes fall on Miles finally and he blinks in surprise. "Hello. And you are?"

"Miles." He jumps up out of his chair and goes to shake my dad's hand.

"Miles Quincy." I say. Instantly my dad's face drains of all it's color. He sets the food on the coffee table and looks slowly back at Miles. "Son, I think you should call your Dad and let him know where you are so he can come get you."

"I need to talk to you." Miles says quickly. He reaches around and pulls a piece of paper out his backpack and hands it to my Dad. His face drains of all color and he stares at Miles as though he's seen a ghost.

"I found that in my Dad's office." Miles says quietly. "I couldn't ask him about it. I knew he'd just say to drop it like he always does wit things he doesn't want to talk about."

The doorbell rings again and Lucas puts a hand on my arm and whispers that he'll get it. I look over my Dad's shoulder to see what he's holding.

I don't believe it. It must be a fake Or a really bad dream. I've even been known to hallucinate after too much sugar. That can't be legit.

My dad is holding an adoption certificate. Miles's name is listed as the child in question and under father it says Jamie Andrews. This is SO not happening.

"Um, Mr. Andrews?" Lucas says from the doorway. We all turn to see Tom Quincy there.

"Jamie, man, I'm sorry about this. If I'd known he was planning this…"

"So it's true?" Miles asks. "Are you my father?"

"No." my dad says softly. He hands the paper back to Miles.

"But it says right here…" he holds his hands up to silence him. "It says that because I was married to your mother when you were born. But Tommy's your father."

"What!"

Everybody looks at me. Guess they forgot Lucas and I were here.

"Lane…" my dad starts toward me. I step back and he stops. "How could you not tell me you were married again? Was I too young to remember? What about Mom?"

"I'll tell you everything when you're older."

"That is such a cop out!" I yell.

Tommy chuckles. "Just like Jude." he mumbles.

My dad whirls on him. "Don't you dare."

Tommy's face hardens, but he goes on, "You have no right to stand here in my house and talk about Jude in front of Lane. Not after what you did."

"I don't get it." Miles says. He looks over at his father. "How is she," he points at me, "like Mom?"

Jude? As in Jude Harrison? She's Miles's mother? Now I'm even more confused. What does any of this have to do with me?

Tommy comes over and lays his hands on his son's shoulders. "Because she's her mother, too."

I feel like I can't breath. Like the whole world is closing in around me and nothing is making sense. My dad looks over at me and starts toward me again. Once more I step away. But this time I run out of the apartment. I vaguely notice Lucas following me and I think I hear my dad yelling at me . But I don't stop. I can't. It's not true.

It can't be.