Alcatraz Read Free Page A

boy!’ the old man said. ‘I can’t wait. Soon you’ll be getting a package in the mail, and—’ ‘Stop. You know about the package?’
    ‘Of course I do, of course I do. Don’t tell me it already came?’
    I nodded.
    ‘Blistering Brooks!’ the old man exclaimed. ‘Where, lad? Where is it?’
    I frowned. ‘Did Ms. Fletcher send it?’
    ‘Ms. Fletcher? Never heard of her. Your parents sent that box, my boy!’
    He’s never heard of her? I thought, realizing that I’d never verified the man’s identity. Great. I’ve let a lunatic into the house .
    ‘Oh, blast!’ the old man said, reaching into his suit pocket and pulling out a pair of yellow-tinted glasses. He quickly exchanged the light red ones for these, then looked around. ‘There!’ he said, rushing up the stairs, pushing past me.
    ‘Hey!’ I called, but he didn’t stop. I muttered quietly to myself, following. The old man was surprisingly spry for his age, and he reached the door to my room in just a few heartbeats.
    ‘Is this your room, my boy?’ the old man asked. ‘Lots of footprints leading here. What happened to the doorknob?’
    ‘It fell off. My first night in the house.’
    ‘How odd,’ the old man said, pushing the door open. ‘Now, where’s that box . . .?’
    ‘Look,’ I said, pausing in the doorway. ‘You have to leave. If you don’t, I’m going to call the police.’
    ‘The police? Why would you do that?’
    ‘Because you’re in my house,’ I said. ‘Well . . . my ex-house, at least.’
    ‘But you let me in, lad,’ the old man pointed out.
    I paused. ‘Well, now I’m telling you to leave.’
    ‘But why? Don’t you recognize me, my boy?’
    I raised an eyebrow.
    ‘I’m your grandfather, lad! Grandpa Smedry! Leavenworth Smedry, Oculator Dramatus. Don’t tell me you don’t remember me – I was there when you were born!’
    I blinked. Then frowned. Then cocked my head to the side. ‘You were there . . .?’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ the old man said. ‘Thirteen years ago! You haven’t seen me since, of course.’
    ‘And I’m supposed to remember you?’ I said.
    ‘Well, certainly! We have excellent memories, we Smedrys. Now, about that box . . .’
    Grandfather? The man had to be lying, of course. I don’t even have parents. Why would I have a grandfather?
    Now, looking back, I realize that this was a silly thought. Everybody has a grandfather – two of them, actually. Just because you haven’t seen them doesn’t mean they don’t exist. In that way, grandfathers are kind of like kangaroos.
    At any rate, I most certainly should have called the police on this elderly intruder. He has been the main source of all my problems ever since. Unfortunately, I didn’t throw him out. Instead, I just watched him put away his yellow-tinted spectacles, retrieving the reddish-tinted ones again. Then he finally spotted the box on my dresser, scribbled-on brown paper still sitting beside it. The old man rushed over eagerly.
    Did he send it? I wondered.
    He reached into the box, taking out the note with an oddly reverent touch. He read it, smiling fondly, then looked up at me.
    ‘So, where is it?’ Grandpa Smedry – or whoever he really was – asked.
    ‘Where is what?’
    ‘The inheritance, lad!’
    ‘In the box,’ I said, pointing at the package.
    ‘There isn’t anything in here but the note.’
    ‘What?’ I said, walking over. Indeed, the box was empty. The bag of sand was gone.
    ‘What did you do with it?’ I asked.
    ‘With what?’
    ‘The bag of sand,’ I said.
    The old man breathed out in awe. ‘So, it really came?’ he whispered, eyes wide. ‘There was actually a bag of sand in this box?’
    I nodded slowly.
    ‘What color was the sand, lad?’
    ‘Um . . . sandy?’
    ‘Galloping Gemmells!’ he exclaimed. ‘I’m too late! They must have gotten here before me. Quickly, lad. Who’s been in this room since you received the box?’ ‘Nobody,’ I said. By this point, as you can imagine, I was