CHAPTER 3: November—Jason

It was the day before Thanksgiving. As soon as Bebe and I got home from school, we loaded our suitcases into the SUV. We were taking that one, because my truck only holds two or three comfortably—four in a pinch—so it worked out better this way. We were spending the holiday with Uncle Aaron, Aunt Amy, and their girls: Alex, who's Bebe's age, and Alissa, who's almost ten. I hadn't seen them since the summer after my SMS graduation.

When we got out of the SUV at their brownstone, Aunt Amy and the girls were waiting for us on the porch. "Hi, Sis," Mum said.

"Hi," my aunt answered.

"Hi, Jason! Hi, Bebe!" Alissa called as she ran up and threw her arms around my waist, just like she'd done when she was little. Luckily, unlike Karen Brewer, she's not strong enough to knock me over.

"Hi," Bebe said.

"How are you, Jason?" Alex asked.

"I'm fine," I told her.

"Did you like the Inherit the Wind video?:" Mum asked.

"Aye," my aunt answered. "I really loved your Southern accent, Jason. "You sounded just like Clark Gable."

"Thanks," I said, giving her a hug. In the back of my mind, I thought, If I never have to do a Southern accent again, I'll be so happy.

Just then, Uncle Aaron came out of the house. "Hi," he said, giving each of us a hug. "How have you been?"

"Oh, pretty good," Steve answered. "Jason had his appendix out over the summer."

"You should've been there when Jason woke up from surgery," Bebe told my cousins. "He started singing 'Good Morning, Starshine'." The three girls got a good laugh, as did the adults. I couldn't help joining in.

"How are you feeling now, Jason?" Aunt Amy asked as soon as we'd calmed down.

"Much better," I answered. "I'm just glad the pain's gone."

"Good," she said.

"Oh," Alex remembered. "You remember Doug Mahoney?"

I nodded. You see, Doug Mahoney was this kid who had a lot of problems. His mum was only sixteen when he was born, and his real dad abandoned them as soon as he found out that she was pregnant. They were kicked out of his grandparents' house when he was two, and moved into a homeless shelter. His mum started dating one of the kitchen employees, and they moved in together sometime before Doug turned three. About three years later, his mum's boyfriend started abusing him, both physically and sexually. The way Doug dealt with that was by getting into trouble for petty crimes. According to my cousins, he took Alissa's hair barrette on the playground, and he'd also vandalized their home, namely their Bratz doll collection. He eventually confessed, then went on to juvenile hall. I've wondered about him since then.

"He's on leave from military school," Alex told me. "He's been doing really well, and staying out of trouble."

Just then, we heard a motor scooter coming up the street. It parked beside the curb, and the driver got off and removed his helmet. "Hi, Doug," Alex said.

"Hi," he answered. He sure didn't look the same way he did when he was nine. Not only was he taller and more muscular, but his voice was slightly deeper, and had jet-black streaks in his hair, as well as a gold earring in his left ear.

"Hey, Jason!" he exclaimed when he saw me. I was a little surprised that he was able to recognize me, since I'd gotten my hair cut last spring.

"Hi," I said as he ran up and gave me a hug. "How have you been?"

"I've been doing all right," he answered. "School's been good to me, and I've been learning a lot about firearms, hand-to-hand combat, and lifesaving techniques."

"Really? That's great," I said. "Have you been staying out of trouble?"

Doug grinned and nodded. "Oh, and you'll never believe this," he said. "My mom's getting married this summer. Best of all, she's asked me to give her away. And no, I'm not saying something stupid like, 'Sure, take her. She's not my problem'."

Mum and I couldn't help laughing. "That's wonderful," Mum said when we'd calmed down. "Who's the lucky guy?"

"His name's Derek Adams, and he's a second corporal in the Air Force," Doug said. When he said that, I thought of my real dad, who had been killed in Iraq before I was born. He'd also been that rank, but he was in the Scottish Army. Mum had given me his ID tags for my eighth birthday, and I still have them.

"How do you like him?" I asked.

"Oh, he's a great guy," Doug told me. "I think I'm going to like having him in our family."

I was so proud of Doug. He'd come such a long way since then, and I really hoped he'd stick with it.