Spring 2008 • Vol. XXX No. 2 FictionApril 1, 2008 |

The Road

Today is Jack's birthday and we are going to visit him. Jack is dead. He died one year, three months, and two days ago, July ninth, two-thousand and six at four o'clock in the afternoon, Eastern Daylight Time. Mom and Dad picked him up at his medical school in Gainesville, Florida, on the way to visit me at my school in Mount Pleasant, Florida. They are making me live at Mount Pleasant until I can learn very appropriate behavior. Mr. Pritchett and the other teachers are supposed to be helping me. But things still hum in my brain. I still get mad when I'm not perfect, when I can't beat Tomb Raider's last level. God is perfect. I don't like that. It's not fair that he can do everything, and I can't. Mom says Jack is with God now. Dad says Jack is gone. "Hey, Danny Boy," Jack says to me. He gave me a noogie on my head when he saw me. It kind of hurt, him rubbing my hair hard, but I'm a man … I can take it. "Aw, don't cry, Danny," he said. "Take it like a man." He patted me on

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