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Sixteen

SIXTEEN

Somehow I made it in the house undetected. Dad had gone to bed, sleeping soundly as always. Amy hadn’t come home yet from hanging out with her friends. Mind and body numb, arms and legs limp, I managed to stow my bike against the garage, sneak inside without waking Dad up, and somehow crawl into bed without a sound.

Believe it or not, I fell asleep almost instantly. I’d expended all my energy in my mad dash home. Overloaded, my mind also shut down. I burrowed deep into the covers, closed my eyes and dropped into the black abyss of sleep.

But it was not restful.

I dreamed. Worse yet, I couldn’t wake myself up. Instead of dreaming and jolting awake, my mind slogged through a nightmare that I couldn’t drag myself free of. A nightmare of being Jake and swinging at that stone chest under the gazebo in Mr. Trung’s flower garden . . .

***

I swing and swing, repeatedly hitting the lid to the stone chest under Mr. Trung’s pagoda, hating that goddamn gook bastard with every breath
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