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    Rebel's Tag
    Rebel's Tag
    Rebel's Tag
    Ebook72 pages32 minutes

    Rebel's Tag

    By K.L. Denman

    2.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Sam's grandfather vanished from his life the day Sam's father was buried. Now, ten years later, Grandpa Max wants to make amends. He sends letters that lead Sam on a scavenger hunt. Sam follows his grandfather's bizarre instructions though he's still not ready to forgive. To alleviate his anger at his grandfather, Sam turns to his favorite stress release: climbing onto roofs and leaving his tag, a spray painted symbol for Aquarius. When he gets caught by an elderly couple, Sam learns a valuable lesson about forgiveness. He's ready to forgive his grandfather, but is he too late?
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherOrca Book Publishers
    Release dateOct 1, 2007
    ISBN9781554696963
    Rebel's Tag
    Author

    K.L. Denman

    K.L. Denman a écrit de nombreux romans pour la jeunesse, notamment Destination Human et Agent Angus publiés par Orca. Bon nombre de ses ouvrages ont figuré aux palmarès des meilleurs livres de l’année, et Me, Myself and Ike a été finaliste au Prix littéraire du Gouverneur général. K.L. Denman vit à Delta, en Colombie-Britannique.

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      Book preview

      Rebel's Tag - K.L. Denman

      one.

      chapter one

      I’m late getting home. That sucks because I’ll be in for it. Mom hates it when I’m late, especially when I don’t have a good reason, like now. I was playing street hockey with the guys and didn’t notice the time. No big deal, but I’ll hear about how thoughtless I am. How worried she was. How at the very least, I should have called.

      I slip into the living room and switch on the TV. Once in a while, if she’s on the phone or something, I get away with this ploy. If she isn’t sure how long I’ve been parked on the couch she lets it go.

      It doesn’t look good today. I’ve barely landed my butt and Mom’s there. I pretend deep interest in the tv, which is useless because I’m watching a diaper commercial. I brace myself for the usual, but she says nothing. Instead she drops an envelope onto my lap. It’s one of those big yellow envelopes, and my name is scrawled across the front: Samuel Connor. Mom stands over me, her lips pressed tight, her arms folded across her chest.

      What’s this? I ask. Some garbage from school?

      She shakes her head. Take a look.

      The envelope isn’t sealed so whatever it is, I’m betting Mom read it. Judging by the look on her face, she didn’t like it. But if it’s not a nasty school report, then what else could it be?

      Oh, man. Someone must have seen Indi and me doing our thing. They recognized me and reported it to the cops. This envelope is from the cops. They write letters? Wouldn’t they just come and hassle me?

      I keep cool, reach inside, draw out a sheet of paper. It doesn’t have any official emblems. It just looks like a letter, starting with Dear Samuel. Weird. No one writes me letters. I shoot another glance at Mom but she hasn’t budged. She’s just standing there looking like she’s going to burst.

      I look down and catch an odd aroma wafting from the sheet of paper. What is that smell? It triggers a hazy memory. The memory wheels around the edge of my mind but refuses to solidify. It circles, and I don’t want it to come closer. Maybe I don’t want to read this letter.

      Dear Samuel,

      I want to make it clear from the start, us not knowing each other anymore is my fault—not yours, not your mother’s. This is your grandfather, Max Connor, writing to you. The last time I saw you was at your father’s funeral. You were only four years old, just a little guy. Do you remember me? Because before that day, we were pals and we spent a lot of time together.

      I believe I owe you an explanation for being absent from your life. You see, I went kind of crazy after your dad’s car accident. Your grandmother Connor died too, just six months before your dad, and I figured I had enough of losing the ones I loved. I decided I wasn’t going to love anyone ever again. I made myself forget about you and your mom.

      I’ve written your mom too and told her how sorry I am for being such a fool. If you’re reading this now it’s because your mom is wiser than I ever was. Ten long years have passed and I’ve finally got to the place where I know I made a very big mistake. I’ve asked her to allow me another chance to be part of your life.

      I want to give you something, Samuel. It’s the most valuable thing I have and I never should have kept it from you. If you’re willing to forgive me and accept my gift, please follow the instructions you’ll find in the second letter. If you want nothing to do with a thickheaded old man like me, well, I understand.

      Your Grandpa Max

      The smell coming from the paper is pipe tobacco. Grandpa Max smoked a pipe. Two images explode from the past. The first is Grandpa bending over to scoop me up, swing me round and set me up on his big shoulders. The second is him standing apart from everyone in a graveyard, the pipe clamped in his mouth. I remember how I ran to him, expecting to find his arms reaching down. I caught hold of his leg and he flinched. He shoved me aside, sent me sprawling and marched away. I called after him. He didn’t look back.

      Mom? I say.

      Yes?

      But I don’t know what to say next. I want to crumple that letter, shred it, burn it. That jerk—who does he

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