The Death of Me Read Online Free PDF Page A

asking?”
    “Frances,” I replied. “My mother’s dad.”
    “Frances?” he asked with a shocked look on his face. “I wish I had known that. I would have gone to the services today.”
    I raised a curious eyebrow. Why would he want to attend my grandfather’s wake?
    A pleasant smile crossed his face. “Frances was a great man, Zaydee. He and I became close after you left.”
    I nodded and crossed my arms over my chest, slumping a little in my seat. I wasn’t going to ask anymore questions on that. I didn’t want to know why they had become so close, I just wanted to know certain things and now was my chance.
    “Mr. Spears—”
    “Garret,” he said waiving his hand, “You’re not my student anymore.”
    My eyes fell on his left hand when he put it back down. There used to be a bright golden wedding band on his ring finger when I lived here and now it was gone.
    “What happened there?” I asked, keeping my eyes on his hand.
    “Huh? Oh. I told her. I waited for the statute of limitations to run out and I told her. Not because I felt what we did was wrong, but because I knew she would be vindictive enough to turn me in for loving someone else. I didn’t exactly tell her all of it, but enough for her to leave,” he replied with a shrug, leaning back in his chair.
    “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.
    “Nothing to be sorry about, Zaydee. It was as much my fault, maybe even more so than yours. But I’m sure that’s not why you’re here. Or is it?”
    I shook my head truthfully. It really wasn’t why I was there, sitting in the principal’s office, across from my biggest mistake and greatest heartbreak.
    “Then what’s on your mind, kiddo?” he asked curiously.
    I rolled my eyes, but caught myself when he started to laugh. It was obvious that his “kiddo” remark struck a nerve in me.
    “Well, I uh ...” I swallowed the lump that was forming in my throat. I didn’t know how to ask what I wanted to ask without cutting open an old scar. The one thing I learned about scars was that they never healed if you kept opening them.
    “It was a boy,” he said softly.
    I looked up from my lap and looked into his eyes. I felt tears immediately start spilling over and I had to bite my lip to keep from letting out a sob.
    Garrett took a box of Kleenex out of one of his top drawers and set it in the middle of his desk. I reached forward and grabbed a tissue, dabbing at my eyes.
    “His name is Scott, and this,” he said, pulling open the top drawer again and producing a four by six photograph, “is the only picture I have of him. He was eight in this.”
    I reached for the picture and held it up so that I could see the little boy smiling on a bicycle. That was all it took for me to burst into gut wrenching sobs. I never expected that I would ever get to know what I had, let alone see his face at one point in his life.
    Garrett sighed and got to his feet. I heard the wheels in his chair rolling as he pushed his chair back and came over to put an arm around me.
    I rested my head against his shoulder and cried as I held up the picture of Scott and looked at him. I was thankful that someone loved him enough to make him smile and I was even more thankful that he had been taken from me. There was no way in hell that I would have ever made him as happy as he was in that picture.
    “Frances always had my gratitude for what he did,” Garrett said softly, as he ran his hand up and down my arm in an effort to calm me.
    I pulled away from him and took a deep, shuddering breath. I didn’t know what he was talking about but I couldn’t form the words to ask him either.
    “Didn’t you know?” he asked, moving to sit at the edge of his desk. “Frances and Greta adopted Scott. They sent him to live with your aunt and uncle in Phoenix because they knew they couldn’t raise him.”
    “What?” I blurted out. My voice was a mixture of rage and sorrow. How was it possible that my parents kept this from me? That they let