So, here's the next one. I only own the OCs - and I'm not ashamed that there are so many.

I woke up bright and early the next day.

This wasn't for reasons of punctuality, mind you. I was just so excited I woke up smiling, alive. Today was the day, indeed.

"Wow, brother," Daniel said. "How much good did Shabbat do you?"

I just grinned at him. "Going to Uncle Jeb's," I said.

Once I'd announced my intentions over the phone, Jeb gave me directions to his shop from my house, which I had dutifully written down. He sounded quite pleased that I'd made up my mind at last. In fact, I thought he understood better than my father, who seemed to have written me off. He told me he'd text Mama, so she'd understand.

"We'll meet at eight," he'd told me. "It shouldn't be too far a walk."

I headed downstairs, where Mama was cooking eggs.

"How would you like it, Amos?" she asked me.

"Sunny side up – the usual, Mama," I responded.

While she was cooking the eggs, she said, "I heard from my brother that you made your choice."

"On what?" I asked innocently.

"On where to spend the rest of the weekend. He seemed pleased that you'd made your choice. It's almost like he wanted you to come all along."

Really? Well, nice.

Papa came down, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and defeat. I guessed Mama had told him about my decision.

He glanced at me like he wasn't sure what to say. "Well, Amos…" I braced myself for the worst. "Good luck."

Mama came in with my eggs, and I smiled at her.

"I wasn't sure it'd come to this, but…" Papa sighed. "If that's what you want, I can't stop you. I couldn't stop Solomon from leaving for college."

I met his eyes. "Thank you for your support."

I didn't mean it to be sarcastic, but somehow it just came out that way. Papa frowned, then shook his head and left, muttering something about teenagers being so difficult.

I turned my attention to my eggs.

"Here, Amos." It was Daniel. He set the recorder, which I'd still kept in my room (I didn't know why, some sentimental reason?), at my spot. "I thought you might want it. I mean, I wouldn't get any use out of it."

"Thanks," I said through a mouthful of eggs, taking the recorder and stashing it in my satchel. I understood why Daniel wanted me to take the recorder - and not just because he was so tone-deaf. I might feel better bringing it with me.

Daniel glanced at me. "So you're serious?"

I nodded.

"Sure this won't conflict with –" Daniel lowered his voice – "your other thing?"

"Daniel, it's just one day. I think I have time for a day off from that other thing."

I knew what he meant by the other thing – not Miriam, but VLADJI. I was pretty sure nothing had been scheduled for Sunday, which was Vinny Lee and DJ's day of rest. I respected their wishes, especially DJ's. But if the monsters were ornery enough, we might not have a choice.

Daniel dropped his voice again. "I think Papa might want you there."

"What's there?" I was pretty sure Daniel wasn't referring to the music shop.

"His high school reunion. Papa planned big. Studio Six Two."

Now that was a new thing. Papa didn't really take to Studio Six Two. And why would he want my presence? "I'll bet it was someone else's idea."

"Yeah. He got outvoted."

"And since when do kids get involved in high school reunions?"

"Dunno. He never said why."

I left around 7:30. The music shop Uncle Jeb owned was a twenty-minute walk from my house, which was closer than most extended family members got. I guess I was pleased to have that much extended family so close to my place. Just the right amount of distance between us.

As I was walking through the neighborhood, I caught some of the neighborhood kids playing games. Before, they ignored me and even left me out when I tried to join. It was quite a cruel world when everyone shuns you.

It certainly didn't ruin my good mood.

I began singing "Three Little Birds," just because, what the heck, that was the great day I was having.

When I started up, a sudden shift occurred, as if a cheery wind had swept through. The kids stopped what they were doing previously, staring in my direction, perhaps wondering what bright fellow decided to sing Bob Marley to them. Nice. I had an audience.

Make it count, I thought, and continued with the first verse.

The kids giggled and swarmed – maybe because my voice was drawing them, maybe because, once again, my pendant had lit up. When I checked, it was, indeed, glowing, the outline of David's star and daleth prominent against the maroon background, but it couldn't be what was making them shake. The kids were even starting to sway like snakes to a charmer's flute (and that's not a comparison I use lightly). Some were even outright dancing along.

I drew out my voice to the second verse – which wasn't too different from the first – when I noticed something else. The kids were now singing along – some of them mangling the lyrics, but what did you expect? They also looked – I will admit – pretty happy.

That encouraged me. I like to see happy kids. I continued into the chorus, repeating it out with my neighborhood kid choir following along.

When I finished the tune, the kids looked mesmerized. I could hear some chatter – from the adults who'd been watching, I guessed.

"Did he sing –"

"Whoa, amazing –"

"Darvosky's kid? He can't have gotten that voice from his father."

"Wasn't that the klutz? And him singing like an angel?"

"Something's up in the family, I know it. How could Reuben not know about this?"

I had to smile. I wasn't sure how they knew Papa. Or his specialty. But I liked that they recognized me. And there was something in the whispers that suggested they knew more than they let on about.

So that must've been what Shadow was talking about, I thought. But how to break it to Papa that I wasn't who he thought I was?

I shook the thought and continued on my way.

On the plus side, no smoke accosted me, and I reached the music shop without further incident.

The place was cheery enough, with a blue awning and red brick façade that provided a contrast that would catch the eye. Several music instruments – a trumpet, a guitar, and a keyboard – were set out and decorated with ribbons, which would get them mistaken for Christmas presents. I knew Uncle Jeb had recently set out cameras and a reinforced door to curb shoplifting and burglaries, which was academic when half the streets were filled with crooks.

I entered the shop.

It was 7:55, according to the clock on the counter.

"Uncle Jeb?" I asked.

My uncle materialized at the counter, wearing his apron. The apron looked very much like something a seller of musical instruments would have worn.

"Hey, Amos!" He smiled at me. "You're early."

I smiled at him. "You know how I am. Always like to be early."

Jeb just gave me a smile. "Well, let's get started."

All right, this'll be fun. Stay tuned! More coming soon!