PROLOGUE
Tennyson
Union Chapel, Kansas, 1998…
Eleven-year-old Tennyson Grimm’s full attention was focused on Miss Glendale and the algebraic equation she was writing on the board. 2x=10. Why the hell was there a letter mixed in with the numbers? He looked around the room and could see the “aha!” light come on in his classmates’ eyes. Tobey March and Kent Stevens elbowed each other and pointed to Ten. Each boy made the letter “L” with their thumb and first finger and slapped it to their forehead. The universal sign for loser. It crossed Ten’s mind to shoot both boys the bird, but why bother? They were right.
Ten hated math. His parents had bought him a scientific calculator for Christmas. It could add, subtract, multiply, and divide in a matter of seconds. Ten’s father, David, made sure it also had functions for equations, trigonometry, and calculus. Foreign words to Ten, ones he hoped he never had to learn about up close and personal.
Turning his attention back to the board, Ten saw Alice Sawyer raise her hand and in her prissy voice announced that “X” was the number five. Two times five was ten, therefore X equaled five. Ten understood it now that he heard Alice explain it, but he still felt like an absolute dope for not catching on sooner, like the rest of the class had done.
Steeling his spine, Ten watched as Miss Glendale wrote a second equation on the board. He dutifully copied it into his notebook and was in the process of trying to sort it out for himself before the teacher asked for the answer, when something landed on his desk.
It was a note, folded in an elaborate style of middle school origami, which rendered the piece of notebook paper to roughly the size of those moist towelettes restaurants gave out when you ordered ribs. Ten wanted to cage his hand down on the note and slide it into his lap, where it would be out of sight until the period ended, but he knew Miss Glendale’s keen eye would hear the slap of his hand against the desk and would see the swipe of his hand.
Setting his hand slowly over the note, Ten moved it toward the edge. He gave a cursory look around the room and found that every pair of eyes, including Miss Glendale’s, were square on him.Fuck.
Ten knew he was going to hell for even thinking that word, but he had to imagine that God would understand the precarious situation he was in and would let that one curse slide.
“Got something to share with the rest of the class, Tennyson?” Miss Glendale asked, her usual chipper grin long gone.
Ten startled, letting out an involuntary yelp. “Uh, no!” Ten’s voice squeaked.
The class laughed, whether over the tone of his voice or over his surprise and being caught, Ten didn’t know, and frankly, didn’t care. He knew exactly what was going to happen next. He’d seen this very scenario played out dozens of times during his school career. Things never went well for note recipients.
“Read it to the class, Tennyson.” Miss Glendale crossed her arms over her chest. She held the blackboard chalk in her hand like a cigarette. The look on her face was pure annoyance.
Ten’s face heated. He knew he looked like a boiled lobster straight out of the pot. If given the choice between reading the note and taking a swim with the lobsters, Ten would choosethe latter. “This isn’t mine. I don’t know who sent it,” Ten stammered. If he were smart, he’d tear the blasted thing up and shove the pieces in his mouth, but the thought of dirty, unwashed hands folding the note turned him off of that idea instantly.
“Obviously the note was important enough to interrupt my class. There must be earth-shattering news inside. Read it.”
“I’ll just go to the principal’s office.” Ten made to get out of his seat, when Jimmy Hall, who sat to his right, snatched the note off his desk.
Jimmy gleefully unfolded it and began to read. “Dear Boogerface,” he crowed, pausing for the class to laugh. “Didn’t you wear those pants on Monday? You’re so poor, you can’t even pay attention. Your Mom should use her dirty whore mouth to suck my big fat one instead of reading Bible verses. Signed, your secret admirer.” Jimmy was laughing so hard that tears streamed down his face. The rest of the class joined in. “Wait, there’s more! P.S. You look like a monkey and you smell like one too!”
Tennyson had enough. He grabbed his notebook and backpack and stormed out of the room. His classmates’ screeches of laughter followed him out into the hall. So did Miss Glendale.
“Tennyson, wait!” Her heels clicked against the floor as she hurried to catch up with him. “I thought it was a harmless love note. I wouldn’t have made you read the note if I’d known…”
Turning around, Ten shot Miss Glendale a withering stare, coincidentally, the same one his mother used when kids mouthed off in her Sunday School class. He stared at his teacher, wanting to shout out his frustrations, but knew there would be literal hell to pay if his parents caught wind of this situation,which was bad enough to begin with. He fisted his hands by his side, gripping his fingers together so tightly that they shook. “I guess we both learned a hard lesson today, didn’t we?” His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Tell the office I was excused from class because I’m sick. It’s true enough.” Without waiting for her response, Ten turned and hurried down the corridor.
Feeling his breakfast roil in his gut, Ten picked up the pace. The last thing he wanted was to be seen cryingandbarfing in the hallway.
Once Ten was outside in the fresh, frigid air, he was able to take a deep breath. Nothing that had been written in the note was true, but in middle school, truth didn’t matter; having delicious gossip to pass along in the cafeteria was the ultimate currency.
It didn’t take a genius to know that the retelling of what happened in Miss Glendale’s class was already swirling through the school. Ten knew there would be bits added, that he’d been crying with snot running down his face, or that he didn’t know what the word “whore” meant, or maybe even that his mother actuallydidsuck big fat ones in the church parking lot after Sunday service.
Rumor was king and Tennyson was a lowly peasant. He couldn’t wait to grow up and get the hell out of this tiny town. When he was an adult he wouldn’t have to deal with gossip, rumors, or assholes making his life a misery.
1
Ronan
January, present day…
Ronan O’Mara pulled the steaming hot lasagna from the oven, setting it on top of the stove before removing the cheesy garlic bread from the second rack. “Kids! Dinner!” he shouted.
Thankfully, the kids had already set the table because Ronan had no idea where the hell Jude and Cope kept plates and napkins. He supposed he should know by now, since he had been making dinner at their house several nights a week since Jude had come home from the hospital.
