WE HAVE A BATHROOM CONVERSATION

—me and the wolf on the cover of the magazine. The toilet runs for a bit and the fan is on so nobody can hear us.

This house is dangerous for you Bernard.

Why? I ask.

The wolfs eyes gleam like they are alive when Grampa is speaking. Then they go back to paper. Gleam and fade—gleam and fade. They gleam now.

Broz is 1 of them says the wolf.

One of—

The Pee Yan Vee Yan national party he says.

He spits the name like Joe does. And like an old movy clip coming back I remember the hockey game I played back at the Newman house. A mask guy told me he was from a place that sounded like a Pee and a Vee—and so was a player for the Vancouver hockey team. I didnt know if Pee and Vee was a city or a country or what. Now I realize he was talking about Pee Yan Vee Yah. And that the Pee Yan Vee Yah guys are the kid nappers.

Lots of people are from there I say to Grampa. Just because your from Pee Yan Vee Yah doesnt mean your a kid napper. Joe is a customs officer I say.

And a lyer. He never called Creekside about you Bernard. He drove past the turnoff to get here.

Worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry worry.

He lyed about his phone 2 I say.

The kid nappers needed a safe place to drive you across the border says Grampa. They new where Joe works. They are a nationalist group called the SPCA.

That was the name Joe asked me about!

Hush Bernard! Speak more quietly.

Sorry I wisper.

I know the wolf stuff doesnt makes sense. I get that. Its about how much you trust Grampa. Spencer was talking about spying and who Grampa was working for. But I dont care about that. He led me to Adeline. Saving her life is the biggest and best thing Ive done in a long time. Maybe ever. Babys are more important than spy secrets. Take that James Bond. Id rather have Grampa on my side.

What shuld I do now? I ask him.

Theres a window behind you. Use it.

What?

You promised you would look after yourself Bernard. Keep your promise.

The cover wolf uses a very Grampa tone of voice. The yellow eyes blaze like fire and then the lite in them goes out. The magazine is just a magazine.

There is a name on it. The magazine is delivered to Violet Dieters. Whoever that is. This must be her house. The address is in Toronto.

Holy crap! Grampa was rite—Im way past Creekside.

I stare at myself in the meer for a second. A big rumply boy with dark hair sticking out and a look of Holy crap! on his face. That’s me all rite.

I have to stand on the toilet to reach the window. It is small but I can push myself thru the open part even in my coat witch I am still wearing. I am worryed about my feet. I will run faster in socks than in skates—but not for long.

You probly think I am crazy. Fair enuff. It doesnt make sense that Grampa is helping me from beyond the grave—but sense isnt everything. It doesnt make sense that I found a baby in a gym bag. It doesnt make sense that Aiden Tween is so popular. It doesnt make sense that people smoke cigarets or feed stray cats or kill children or like pickle flavor potato chips—but they do. It doesnt make sense that you are reading this story insted of all the other millions of stories out there. Life isnt about making sense. Its a gift and you do your best with it. Yeah its crazy that Grampa is talking to me but it would also be crazy for me not to pay attention—like saying no to the gift. If you need help and you get help you shuld use the help.