ooked out the
window at the Bakers' house。 “And now she won't talk
to me!”
Very quietly my grandfather said; “Maybe she thinks this is all a little sudden?”
“But it's not!”
“It's not?”
“No; I mean …” I turned to him。 “It started with that stupid newspaper article。 And I don't
know… I've been weirded out ever since。 She doesn't
look the same; she doesn't sound the same; she doesn't even seem like the same person to
me!” I stared out the window at the Bakers'。 “She's…
she's just different。”
My grandfather stood beside me and looked across the street; too。 “No; Bryce;” he said softly。
“She's the same as she's always been; you're the
one who's changed。” He clapped his hand on my shoulder and whispered; “And; son; from
here on out; you'll never be the same again。”
Maybe my grandfather's happy about all this; but I'm miserable。 I can't eat; I can't watch TV; I
can't seem to do anything。
So I went to bed early; but I can't sleep。 I've w