There Will Come a Time Read Online Free PDF

corner before she can offer a greeting.
    The bell rings.
    I relax. I do the math. I only have 270 days. 6,480 hours. 388,800 minutes to go. I remember what Hanna said as I watch the clock. 388,799 minutes. Here’s to the lasts .

Six
    T he brown box is beat-up and held together by a botched tape job. I can’t tell if someone opened it and closed it back up or if it was tossed and abused on the journey to my house. The return address is the police station. Instead of opening it, I sit down next to it on the porch steps. Jenny’s out somewhere with Fern and it’s too early for Dad to be home, so I’m alone. It’s just me and the box. I eye my skateboard leaning against the house and think about going to the park.
    A door slams across the street and Hanna heads for our yard. I can tell she’s pissed by the way she walks, with her head down and little, quick steps.
    She plops next to me and pulls her cap low. Her sulkingeffort is not lost on me, but it makes her look cute instead of seriously angry.
    â€œHey,” I say.
    â€œHow was your first day?” she asks.
    â€œI survived.” People were a little weird, but I kind of expected that. Levon was right about the papers for my history class. There’s one due in three weeks. My English teacher has decided to torture us right at the start with Frankenstein . I thought it’d be cool, but after flipping through the first pages I can tell it’s going to be slow reading. I have a stack of new music for orchestra and jazz band. “You?”
    â€œOkay. Are you locked out?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œWhat’re you doing?”
    â€œNothing.”
    She takes off her hat and lets her brown hair fall just past her shoulders, combing it with her fingers. I reach out and fix a section for her. Her hair is so soft. I let my hand linger a little, but drop it when she starts speaking again.
    â€œMom wants to talk with me later about Steve. But I already know what she’s going to say.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œShe wants him to move in with us.”
    I wait for her to continue, not sure how to respond. I try tothink of what Grace would say if she were here. Would she nod her head? Give Hanna a hug? That could get awkward or interesting. Maybe Grace would tell her what a bastard Steve is? No, she’d let Hanna talk.
    Grace was a great listener. She wasn’t an “uh-hum” or “yes” or “right” commenter throughout your story. She didn’t wait until you took a breath, then immediately start speaking. She’d wait until you were completely done, look you in the eye, and say something profound, like Tomorrow will be better than today . So I wait for Hanna.
    After a moment, she continues, “Steve’s decent. I mean, he could be a complete asshole, but he’s not. He always asks me about what I’m doing. Last week he brought me a bag of Skittles, not the regular kind, but the sour ones. You know, the ones I like. He remembered me talking about them. And he makes Mom happy. But moving in. That’s serious. That changes things. He’ll be living with us, as if we’re a family. I don’t know. Maybe I just need to get over myself, but . . .”
    â€œBut he’s not your dad.”
    â€œWhen they first split, I used to imagine all these scenarios of them getting back together. Did you do that?”
    I shrug. “I can’t remember. Maybe. My mom left when I was a lot younger.”
    Grace was the one who would talk about Mom comingback. She made up some story about how Mom was kidnapped and how we’d have to wear disguises and go and rescue her, like she was a princess in one of Grace’s stories. She thought Mom must be scared. Why else wouldn’t she have taken us with her? That had to be the explanation, because the other option was too painful. Over time Grace stopped talking about it.
    â€œWhat’s that?” Hanna asks,