ONE

The report was going to be called “Alex Anderson’s Family History.” The title, of course, would change for each kid in the class—“Sophia Robinson’s Family History” or “Owen Martin’s Family History,” and so on. Owen was one of Alex’s best friends, and Sophia sat next to him. The report had been assigned yesterday—Friday—and wasn’t due for a week. But Alex wasn’t the type of kid to let homework sit until the last minute.

As he climbed the stairs to the top floor of the house, he thought about what he did know about his family’s history. There wasn’t much. He had one living grandparent, his dad’s mom. And she was very old. He had always called her “Nanny D.” She lived in a nursing home a few miles away. His dad took him to see her once in a while. But those visits were always depressing and a little scary. Alex had such happy memories of Nanny D when he was younger. Everybody at her house for dinner on Sundays. Going with her to the beach. Even something like food shopping could be fun with Nanny D. But that was before she got sick. Now it was tough seeing her because she looked about a hundred years old. Alex always tried to be cheerful around her. But it wasn’t easy with all those knots in his stomach.

Outside of Nanny D, Alex didn’t have any immediate family. He was an only child, so no brothers or sisters. There were no cousins or aunts or uncles nearby, either. They lived in a nice town in New Jersey. There was an uncle in Kansas, his dad once told him. And an aunt in Oregon. But Alex had never heard from either of them. He didn’t even know if they had kids of their own; kids who would be his cousins. No—when Ms. Marsten gave this assignment, Alex realized he knew virtually nothing about his family beyond his mom and dad. So he was excited to find out more.

He got to the top of the stairs and opened the door that was there. The house was so big that it had a third floor. They didn’t use it for much. Attic storage, mostly, though there was a guest room that hadn’t been used in years. It was where they put stuff like holiday decorations, or summer clothes in the winter and winter clothes in the summer. When his other grandmother died, his mom put her things up here in three big boxes. Those were definitely worth checking out.

He stepped inside and was greeted by the scent of dust. The house wasn’t that old, but the attic was dusty because no one came up here that often. So it smelled just like it should—dust and stillness and quiet. Also, the floor had no carpeting, and Alex could smell the dryness of the wood. There was something kind of nice about those smells. Warm and comforting.

Then he realized he had never been up here without at least one of his parents. He wondered if they’d be upset. They didn’t get upset at him much—they weren’t those kinds of parents. Then again, he was a really good kid. He got excellent grades in school, never caused any trouble, and tried to be helpful to others. He was mindful—mindful of other people and their feelings. And whatever caused him to be that way turned on like a light in his mind just then. Will they be okay with me being up here by myself? They were both out at the moment. Dad was running some errands in town. Mom was across the street helping Mrs. McCarthy move furniture in her living room. Should I have asked them first? Or at least waited until they were home? 

He finally decided it was okay because he was doing a school assignment. His parents both believed education was super important. And they always did whatever they could to help him. So yeah, he told himself. They’ll be fine with this.

Alex Anderson would soon realize he had never been so wrong about anything in his life.

****

Stepping inside put Alex in a short hallway. To the left was an open area with all sorts of stuff. Directly ahead of him was the guest room. And to the right, the hall went for about twenty feet before stopping at another door. He had no idea what was behind it.

He went to the left. There were plenty of cardboard boxes here, all clearly marked. One was OLD PLATES AND DISHES. Another was HALLOWEEN DECORATIONS. A third said JACKETS, SCARVES, AND GLOVES. He recognized the print as his dad’s. Dad was big into organization. “It makes life easier,” he always said. Alex believed him and tried to be as organized as he could.

There were lots of things outside the boxes, too. There were three stacks of books, each tied up neatly with twine. There was an old rocking chair that Alex sort-of remembered being in the living room at one point. And there was one of those big silver radio / cassette-player things. It had two giant speakers on the front and a long handle across the top. Alex thought his dad called it a “boom box.” Something like that. The door to the cassette player hung open like a mouth waiting to be fed. He gently pushed it shut, and it snapped into place with a click.

Nothing here looked like it would offer much in the way of family history. Part of the assignment was to take pictures. Alex didn’t think a shot of an old rocking chair or a boom box would be appreciated by Ms. Marsten. So he went back to the hall and into the guest bedroom.

It was small and simple—bed, dresser, and nightstand that all matched. The nightstand had a lamp on it, which had been unplugged. This is where Nanny D used to stay when she came to visit. Those were really fun times. She wouldn’t stay for just a day or two. She’d be here for a week or more. One summer she was here for a whole month. She made all the meals and kept the house clean and did laundry. She’d also bring Alex to the park, where there was a jungle gym and a basketball court. There was also a big field where groups of kids would play baseball or football or whatever.

Alex stepped into the room, which was deathly quiet. He opened all the drawers on the dresser and the nightstand. Every one been emptied out. Nothing left but dust snarls and fading memories. He looked under the bed, where he knew Nanny D used to store things in plastic boxes. They were all gone, too. In their place was more dust, more echoes.

He took a few pictures of the room anyway. Maybe he could write about how Nanny D used to stay here. Then he could go into all the great times they’d had together. Maybe not exactly what Ms. Marsten wanted, but better than nothing.

He stepped back into the hallway. Then he looked at the door that stood at the other end. I really don’t think I’ve ever seen what was behind it, he thought. If he had, it was when he was too young to remember. Maybe with mom or dad. But he certainly had no memory of it. And why would he? The attic always felt like their place. There was nothing up here for him. This was where they put things they weren’t using. Other than hanging with Nanny D, he’d never had a reason to come up here until today.

He went to the door and turned the knob slowly. It squealed a bit, which was surprising. Dad usually made sure every knob, hinge, or wheel was kept well-oiled. He hated the sound of squeaky, squealy things. Does that mean he doesn’t come up here much, either? Alex wondered.

The knob turned as far as it would go. Then Alex opened the door, and his heart jumped into his throat. There in the darkness was a hollow square of floating light. Fear flooded into him, and for a moment he felt the urge to turn and run.

Then he realized what he was seeing. It was a window with the shade pulled down. The sunlight from outside had drawn four bright lines around the edges. He smiled and shook his head. “What an idiot I am,” he said out loud.

He found a switch along the inside wall and flicked on the overhead light. Now he saw that this was another guest room. It looked a lot like Nanny D’s in size and shape. Same kind of carpet, same paint color. But there was no furniture of any kind.

The three boxes that contained his other grandmother’s things stood against one wall. There was also a large plastic tub loaded with textbooks and notebooks. That’s mom’s stuff, he realized. When she went to college. That happened a few years earlier. She had always wanted to be a nurse. That was her dream when she was young. But she got married instead. Then, a few years ago, she decided to finally go to nursing school. She didn’t finish, though. Alex wasn’t sure why. She seemed excited for a while. After that, the whole things just kind of faded away.

There were a few other things lying around, too—a pair of suitcases, a small table fan, and an old computer monitor. Then Alex noticed another door. When he opened it, he found a closet. There were clothes on hangers—shirts, pants, light jackets—and some shoeboxes on the floor. Certainly nothing that could be used for his report.

He was about to close the door when he spotted something else. It was another box, but not cardboard. This one was made from some kind of hard, black material. And it had rivets running like little silver dots along the edges. A trunk, he realized. Like something they dragged onto the Titanic. It was in the far corner and mostly covered by a few long dresses that were hanging over it.

He got to his knees and pulled it forward. It was as big and heavy as it looked. And there was a padlock at the front. Since Alex had no idea where the key was, he figured that was the end of that. But he gave the lock a tug anyway, and to his surprise, it popped open. Whoever used it last time didn’t close it all the way, he thought. He didn’t know if that was really what happened, but it made sense. Why would someone put on a lock on it if they didn’t mean to close it after they were done? 

He slid the lock out of the loop and lifted the big lid. Then he took out his phone and turned the light on. What he saw next caused his heart to jump again. This time, however, it was in a good way.

In the family-history department, he could see that he’d struck gold. There were clear plastic bags loaded with greeting cards or photographs. Some of the photos were black and white. Alex took out a few and sorted through them. A few showed Nanny D in her better years. She was holding hands with a man in one of them. Probably her husband, Alex told himself. My grandpa. Alex had never met him because he died a long time ago. In another bag, Alex also found some old letters, including a few from the 1950s. This is perfect, he thought excitedly. Exactly what I need.

 Then the little alarm went off in his head again. It was telling him he probably shouldn’t be going through any of this without his parents’ permission. Just as he was about to put everything back, however, one more item caught his attention. It was a photo album tucked at the bottom. It stood out because it looked fairly new. Certainly newer than anything else. He took it out and opened it.

The first few pictures showed a view through an airplane window. Beautiful blue sky, big puffy clouds. The next page had pics of a hotel somewhere. There were palm trees all around the outside, so it had to be someplace far to the south. Florida, Alex thought. Maybe even the Bahamas.

On the page after that, he saw that his Florida guess was correct. There were several pictures of the entrance to Disneyworld. Specifically, it was Magic Kingdom, which Alex had always wanted to visit. When did Mom and Dad go there? he wondered. Maybe it was with Nanny D or something.

He kept turning the pages. One photo showed his dad sitting at a picnic bench. His face was covered in ice cream, and he was laughing. In the next photo, his mom was doing the exact same thing. This second picture struck Alex as particularly strange. It took him a moment to realize why—he’d never seen his mom so happy. It was like looking at a different person.

The next three pages were miscellaneous stuff. The Mexican restaurant at Epcot. A shot from some roller coaster. And another one of his mom, this time standing next to a woman dressed up as Sleeping Beauty. She looked every bit as happy as before.

He turned the page again, and that’s when everything in his world came to a halt. He stopped breathing, stopped feeling, stopped thinking. Nothing could have prepared him for the shock of what he was seeing now. A photo of his parents standing with Mickey Mouse. And there was another person with them as well. It was him, looking every bit as happy as they were. The kind of happy that only a kid can feel on a sunny day in Disneyworld.

But….

I’ve never been to Disneyworld with them.

He kept staring at the image, trying to make sense of it. Had he forgotten? No, that was impossible. He had a good memory. A very good memory. He would never forget something like this.

But it was definitely him. And he looked maybe only a year or two younger than he was now. He was going to turn thirteen next month. He was maybe eleven in this photo. Ten at the least. 

So what is this?

He peeled back the plastic and carefully took the picture out. Looking at it more closely didn’t provide any answers. Then he turned it over and saw there was writing on the other side. He recognized it immediately as his mom’s—

All of us at the beach, May of 2006

He began to feel dizzy then. He fought it, but he could tell it was a losing battle. Reality started swirling, pulling him down into darkness. Meanwhile, the same thought played over and over in his mind—

2006….

But how is that possible…?

That was two years before I was even born.

****

THE OTHER WILL BE AVAILABLE ON AUGUST 1ST.