Left Out Read Free

spinach if they have it. I’ll take care of things here.” Their mother walked away, already organizing the movers.
    â€œWell . . .” Their dad looked at the Prius as if it were a dangerous dog, and Landon knew he didn’t relish the thought of wedging himself back inside. “Let’s take a walk. Good? We’re not far from the center of town, and my legs could use it.”
    Landon tucked his iPad under one arm, tugged on his Cleveland Browns cap, and set off with his father and sister. They lived on Crow’s Nest Road, which fed right into Pondfield, the main street of Bronxville. The sun warmed the tree-lined street, but it wasn’t too hot. The big houses stood mostly silent. Only an occasional car cruised by. It was as if they had Bronxville mostly to themselves and the pleasant summer day was a greeting to them, a new beginning.
    â€œLibrary.” His dad pointed to a large brick building facing the street, and Landon felt a surge of pleasure because, even though he liked reading on the iPad, he preferred the feel and smell of a real book. The air on the sidewalk in the shadows of the maple trees lining the road was cool and heavy with fresh-cut grass. They only had to cross the street before his father pointed again. “There’s the middle school.”
    That gave Landon the opposite sensation. His hands clenched and his throat went dry. He looked at Genevieve. She had small features and a sharp nose like his mom. She narrowed her green eyes the way a mountain climber might size up Mount Everest.
    They continued on toward the center of town before Genevieve pointed out Womrath Book Shop. “A library and bookstore, Landon. This place is going to be heaven for you.”
    â€œAnd there’s a famous deli across the street, Lange’s.” Their father consulted his phone “Five stars on TripAdvisor.”
    They crossed the street and made their way to the deli. Three bikes leaned against a lamppost on the sidewalk outside. They made Landon nervous because with bikes usually came boys. Sure enough, they walked in and Landon saw the three boys sitting near the back in a corner. Two had dark hair. One, with a pug face, wore his hair parted on the side and swept over the top, flopping down so it nearly covered one eye. The other’s short hair, pointy stiff with gel, framed the elfin face of a TV character. The third had red hair in a buzz cut. He had freckles and big teeth. When they spotted Landon’s father, they immediately began to chatter and point. They were too far for Landon to hear, but he read the pug-faced boy’s lips as helaughed and said, “Hey, it’s the Giant. Where’s Jack?”
    Landon knew he should turn away, knew he shouldn’t look, shouldn’t read their lips and see their words. Nothing good ever came from three boys laughing and gawking, but he felt drawn to it the way he might poke at a bruise to test how much it really hurt. He peeked around the edge of his father, who stood oblivious, looking up at the menu board.
    â€œDude,” the spiky-haired boy said, pointing, “look. It’s got a baby giant from outer space .” The boy made antennae with his fingers and clamped them on his ears. All three of them laughed, and Landon looked away now because they were staring at him. He tugged his cap down, horrified at what they might say if they could see the discs. All they were reacting to now were the battery packs and processors that fit over and behind his ears like giant hearing aids. If they saw the magnetic discs, which looked like fat quarters on the sides of his head, they’d go wild. They wouldn’t even have to know that the discs covered implanted discs attached to wires that were tucked beneath his brain to get excited. He’d heard it before.
    â€œHey, Frank!” someone would say.
    The first time it happened, Landon shook his head and pointed to himself. “My name is