The Marked Son (Keepers of Life) Read Online Free PDF

impressed, either. Maybe there’s a genetic flaw that blocks the full potential of my smile with these two? I clear my throat. “Uh, no, sir. I’m wicked-free.”
    He grunts, stares a little longer than what makes me comfortable, and then returns to eating his food.
    “What are your interests, Dylan?” Grandma asks, fishing for who I am.
    How can I tell her when I’m not even sure? Rarely do people ask, and even more rarely do I offer insight. “Long-boarding. Music. You know, the usual stuff.”
    Grandpa pauses, his fork poised near his mouth. “Sports?”
    “Sure.” Virtual over actual, but no sense in putting the “today’s lazy youth” card on the table. Besides, it feels more natural to steer the conversation toward them and the ranch. “So this is a sheep ranch, huh?”
    I’m bored before Grandma takes her next breath. I pretend to pay attention, and instead, wonder how I’m going to survive this encounter. As I plan what classes I’ll need in order to graduate, I hear the words “rare,” “ancient breed,” and “soy.”
    A guy blanks out for half a second, and suddenly, we’re talking about soy? They’re not the kind of people who drink soy milk and eat tofu, I hope. Is this my last real meal before they bring out the granola?
    I shake myself back to the present. “What did you say?”
    “I know. It’s hard to imagine, but it’s possible our sheep have been around since the ice age.”
    Images of snaggle-toothed, monster sheep flash through my head. I quickly readjust my thinking when she brings me a picture they use to promote their business. Along the top are the words: Pine Grove Soay Sheep Farm , and under it are a half dozen cute, little sheep. And I do mean little. Apparently Soay sheep are the midgets of the sheep world.
    “Their meat is all the rage,” Grandma gushes as she gazes at the photo. “Your aunt Susie is our top customer. She runs a gourmet five-star restaurant in Seattle.”
    “Interesting.” I give back the picture and quickly stuff another bite of roast beef into my mouth so I’ve got an excuse to stay quiet, because now I’m fuming.
    I’ve got an aunt who lives in Seattle. Mom could’ve taken us there, but no. I get quality time with the sheep ranch branch of the family in the Middle of Nowhere, Oregon, instead. Lucky me. Again.
    By the end of dinner, they don’t know what to think of me, and I’m at a loss about what to think of them. Upstairs, a toilet flushes, then a door bangs closed.
    Mom.
    Even though Grandma’s smiling, stress pulls at her lips. It probably never occurred to Mom what our coming here would do to her parents. Then again, Mom lives for drama. She eats and breathes the stuff. I’ve learned to ignore it all—well, most of the time—but Grandma might find that hard to do.
    Grandpa pushes his plate away and frowns in the direction of the back stairs. He mutters something under his breath, unfolds from his chair, and stalks off toward the den. Grandma sighs when the TV pops on. I get the feeling Grandpa isn’t too thrilled with Mom’s reappearance, but will suffer anything to make Grandma happy.
    Poor Grandma. Does she really think having Mom back is a good thing? She stands, gives me a quick smile, and starts clearing away the dishes. “Pie?” she asks in an overly cheery voice.
    I haven’t eaten so well in…well… I can’t remember. I nod and clear away my place. After she slips the last dinner plate into the soapy dishwater, she cuts me a massive slice of chocolate turtle pie, and then cuts another, smaller one, and hands it to me. “Take this one to your mom.”
    I’d rather not. My face must show my hesitance, because she purses her lips and pushes me out. “Go on. She loves pie.”
    Why do I get the feeling I’m carrying a peace offering? It’s a waste of good pie, but I do it, anyway.
    I navigate the stairs with a plate and fork in each hand. At the top, four doors welcome me. I could play eeny-meeny-miney-moe, but