Plus, read an excerpt.
He stepped forward while his eyes were still adjusting.
Paper crunched under his shoe.
There was a note on the stairs.
He bent and picked it up with a rigid arm.
Heavy woven paper with rough edges.
Sharp large handwriting and curly exclamation marks.
FT
Who the heck was FT and what was he talking about?
Not that it mattered.
The note couldnt be for Sam.
He straight-armed it into his pocket and hopped up the next two stairs.
He could hear voices trickling down from the Spaldings living room.
Mrs. Spalding was laughing uncomfortably.
Paper crunched, and Sam stopped again.
How had he missed it?
The light paper stood out on the dark carpet like snow on asphalt.
BACK DOWN SLOWLY, GET OUTSIDE, THEN RUN!
Sam looked up the rest of the stairs.
He could see the old photos of frilly-dress Glory near the top.
He could see the fuzzy rope dangling from the ceiling to hold Mrs. Spaldings fake plants.
Sam took another step.
How was this possible?
Was this a joke?
Sams heart was pounding.
He looked down the stairs behind him.
He picked up the note.
I CANT KEEP CIRCLING BACK FOREVER WITHOUT GOING INSANE!
Sam didnt even move before the next note appeared.
One second it was simply there and a small swirl of sand rustled off it onto the carpet.
The handwriting had grown so large, Sam didnt need to pick it up to read it.
Five eyes focused on him.
Mr. Spalding was standing in front of the window with his hands behind his back.
He didnt seem at all surprised that Sam was sprawled on his floor beside a broken lamp.
Sam had done far more surprising things than this.
Mrs. Spalding was squeezed into a plush recliner and her face needed extra skin just about everywhere.
She was judging Sam right now.
She wasnt looking at Sam.
Her eyes were focused on someone behind him.
Sam jumped to his feet and spun around, nearly falling all over again.
The man who spoke was thinner and taller than Mr. Spalding and bent like a fingernail moon.
His long-fingered hands were webbed together around a battered old coffee cup.
Hed seen this man before, or .
some version of this man.
A shorter and thicker and unbent version.
And the experience hadnt been pleasant.
Sam might not be able to remember, but his body could.
His already pounding heart was kicking harder.
His throat was tightening.
Sam, said Mr. Spalding.
This is Professor Tiny.
His voice was deep.
That was just a posh tone to shine you.
Weve been mates for ages.
He took a long wobbly step forward.
You remember Tiny, dont you Sam?
Dont hurt my feelings.
Sam coughed and stepped back.
He heard the door open downstairs.
I dont remember lots of things.
Oh, but I do, Tiny said.
He took another step forward, long fingers gripping his coffee cup.
His smile grew and his voice hardened.
I remember your sweet mother.
I remember her funeral and your pretty sis taking you on that slow train.
Because Ive seen it all over and over again searching for you.
And I remember a boy named Sam Miracle carving my perfect face in two.
