Hero–Type Read Online Free PDF Page A

SAMMPark. The town built it about five years ago, and it's pretty much one of the only places worth going to in Brook-dale.
    When they first opened the place, it was a big deal. It was like Fourth of July and Memorial Day rolled into one. People took off work to come with their families, to listen to bands play, to barbecue, play Frisbee, all that stuff.
    I was ten or eleven. My little brother, Jesse, was five or six. We were still a family back then. Dad and Mom and Jesse and me.
    I couldn't believe how big the park was. There had once been an office park here, right on the edge of town, but after the economy went bad, the place just sat abandoned for years. Then the town suddenly had a wad of cash and the next thing you know—ta-da! SAMMPark.
    Before Dad would let us run off to play with the other kids, though, he dragged us over to a spot near the entrance to the park. There was a statue there—a lifesize replica of a woman dressed like a nurse.
    "See this?" Dad asked.
    Jesse was all fidgety. Mom put her hands on his shoulders to keep him still.
    "Yeah, Dad," I said.
    "All of these people are just here to have a good time, and that's OK, but..." And then he started rambling and I couldn't understand half of it.
    "What your father is trying to say..." That was a big phrase for Mom. She said it all the time. When I was younger, I thought she had telepathy or something, seeing as how she could figure out what Dad meant to say. Especially when it seemed like
he
had no idea.
    "What he's trying to say, is that people should know why the park is here. That's important."
    Dad took a deep breath and nodded. "Right. Right. See, it was built for ... It was built by..." He blew out his breath. "Look. Here. See it?"
    I read the inscription on the pedestal:
Susan Ann Marchetti Memorial Park.
Under that:
Dedicated and built in her name by the man who gave her life and the man who gave her death.
There were also two dates, just like on a gravestone.
    "What does it mean?" I asked Dad.
    "She was killed back before you were born," Dad said, "by a drunk driver." Dad had found a rhythm now and was comfortable. "Ran her off the road while she was on her way home from nursing school. The guy who did it wasn't much older than you—he had just turned eighteen. And he killed someone. He got off pretty light, too. His family was from Breed's Grove."
    Breed's Grove was on the west side of Brookdale. Rich people lived there. Like
super
rich, you know? I suddenly felt guilty, even though I hadn't done anything.
    "A few years ago, he came back to Brookdale. He was a big success, made a lot of money. But he came back here and the next thing you know, he was working with
her
father to build this park in her memory."
    Dad stared at the statue for a long time. Jesse started fidgeting again. I kept waiting for Dad to say something else, but he just stared. Finally, Mom cleared her throat and told me and Jesse to go play. We ran off, but I looked over my shoulder. Dad was still just staring at the statue. Mom took one of his hands and stood there with him.
    I went over to the playground area. It's like every kid in Brookdale was there—the place was all chaotic fun. Except for Jesse, who sat on a swing, not moving at all, staring down at his feet.
    "What's wrong, Jess?" I thought maybe he wanted me to push him. He knew how to swing on his own, but he still liked being pushed.
    I crouched down next to him and that's when I realized he was crying. I got angry and confused at the same time. "What happened? Did someone hit you?"
    He shook his head ferociously. He never let Mom cut his hair, so it flopped all around his face. "No."
    "Then what's wrong?"
    "Why did she die?" And he started bawling. Other kids looked over.
    "Calm down, Jesse." I knew who he meant—the dead girl. The one they'd named the park after. I should have known this would happen. Jesse cried at cartoons, for God's sake.
    I pulled him off the swing and took him over near some bushes where I