IF YOU FIND THIS

If I die, or get kidnapped by the Isaacs, someone needs to know the truth about what happened to my grandfather. About where my grandfather is. That’s why I’m writing all of this down. I’m going to keep these notes under the clothes in my dresser, so if I’m dead, if you’re reading this, that must mean you were cleaning the dresser out to throw my clothes away. Which means you found the hatchet too—I didn’t steal it, Zeke stole it, to break through the cellar door—and you found the earring, so I did steal that, but I was only keeping it to remember what the homeschooler said to Jordan. I’m going to write down exactly how everything happened. I’m not going to lie to make myself seem braver or smarter than I actually was, because I wasn’t brave, I wasn’t smart, I was afraid, and even if I got all A’s and had square roots memorized like the square root of 537,289, there were problems I couldn’t solve alone. If I’m dead, I’m sorry, I had to risk everything. We were trying to find the heirlooms. That’s what this is about. Buried heirlooms. A map made of letters and numbers. A revolver, a clock, a hammer, a box. This is about my grandfather, my father, my brother. This is about trying to save someone you love.

This is what I’m saying. I need you to understand how everything happened. I need you to understand that none of it was my fault. When you’re eleven, you don’t always get to choose between good and bad. Sometimes you have to choose between bad and bad. Sometimes you have to choose between worse and worst.