The First To Know. Эбигейл Джонсон

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СКАЧАТЬ then he tossed the stack on the table and closed the door behind him. I leaned my head back against the stucco-covered wall, my heart jackhammering in my chest.

      After that day, I started leaving Biology earlier and earlier, as soon as attendance was taken, so that I could be home before the mail in case it came early. But the real problem was Dad. Twice more that week he beat me to the mail, which meant two more near heart attacks for me. Not good. Plus, while Nick might have had trouble expressing his feelings for me, he was a lot less reticent when it came to his thoughts on me skipping out early.

      Nick had a perfect attendance record. He’d even come back to school after having his wisdom teeth removed during lunch hour. He understood why I was leaving early, but he really, really didn’t want to be a part of covering for me. So far, Mr. Rodriguez’s move-around-the-room-as-you-will policy had kept my absence from being noticed, but Nick was growing increasingly unsettled by the prospect. It probably didn’t help that he abandoned several more attempts to ask me out. Each class, it was worse, the sweating, the nervous glances, the bouncing leg under our shared desk. I made a huge mistake one day when I pressed Nick’s knee still with my hand. He made the most insane noise, somewhere between a yelp and a gasp. Needless to say, the entire class—including Mr. Rodriguez—turned in our direction. Nick’s face was on fire, and I was too distracted by the need to beat the mail to play off Nick’s outburst convincingly. For the rest of class, Mr. Rodriguez watched us too closely for me to slip away. I was almost as agitated as Nick by the time the bell rang and I could race home. Thankfully, the results didn’t come that day either.

      When the mail truck started down our street on Wednesday, Dad heard it as soon as I did. He looked out the window, pushed back his chair and stood up. Mom was softly head-banging to the heavy metal music pounding through her earbuds, oblivious to anything else. I started counting steps while watching the approaching truck. Five to the hall. Ten to the front door. He was going to beat me again.

      I pulled my phone out and called home. Seconds later, I heard it ringing inside and, through the windows, saw Dad head back to the office to answer it.

      “Dana?”

      “Hi, Dad. I think I left my History homework on my desk upstairs. I can come by before lunch is over if it’s there, but could you check for me?” As soon as he moved to the stairs, I slid out of the bushes and waved at the mail carrier while directing Dad to search every random spot I could think of in my room. “It might have fallen behind my desk—can you pull it out and check?”

      He put the phone down but I heard his grunt of effort as the mail was placed into my waiting hands.

      “I’m not seeing it anywhere. Are you sure you left it? Dana?”

      I was only half listening as I sorted through random bills and magazines. “Did you look under the bed?”

      He said something about my messy room, but I didn’t hear it, because the second letter from the bottom was from DNA Detective.

      The envelope shook in my hand along with my voice. “It’s here.”

      “Look more carefully next time. And you’re cleaning your room the second you get home today, do you understand me?”

      I hurried to put the rest of the mail in the mailbox. “I will. Thanks for checking. Love you, Dad.”

      “You too.”

      For once I didn’t care that he didn’t say it back. Mom always said he had a hard time verbally expressing love since he’d had so little growing up without a family, but just because he rarely said the word didn’t mean he didn’t feel it. I did know he loved me, and once he opened his birthday present, I’d get to feel it full force.

      As soon as I was around the corner, I tore into the envelope. I skipped the geographic-ancestry and health reports as fast as I could shuffle the pages, until I had it: the possible-relative list. At first the onslaught of information was overwhelming. On the left were default symbols indicating the gender of each potential relative; next to that was the percentage of DNA Dad shared with each person, followed by the predicted relationship. Most were listed as third to fifth cousins, but I barely saw them.

      The top result had a 47 percent DNA match, with the predicted relationship listed as “father or son.”

       Chapter 3

      Fourth period had already started when I got back to school, but instead of spending my study hour in the library like usual, I headed straight for Nick’s class. I’d had Mr. Drobitsky for Woodworking the year before and knew he’d be more likely to put me to work than kick me back to my own class, plus, it’d be loud enough that no one would hear me and Nick talking.

      Sawdust floated thick in the air when I entered the shop. A few people looked up from their whirring lathes or table saws, but no one stopped me, and Mr. D was in the staining room. After making sure Nick wasn’t working with anything that could potentially cut off his finger if I startled him, I hurried up to him.

      “Dana?” He stopped sanding. “What happened?”

      I didn’t ask how he knew something had happened. I could feel that shell-shocked expression still carved into my face. “I found way better than fourth cousins.”

      “The results came?” Nick lifted his safety gasses to his head and glanced around the room. “Wait, will you get in trouble for being in here?”

      I couldn’t care less if I got detention for a month, but Nick wasn’t going to be able to think about anything else until we moved somewhere. I grabbed his hand and towed him into the walk-in project cages in the back. “Nick, I think I found my grandfather.” I laughed and grabbed him in a hug he wasn’t expecting, which only made me laugh more. I pulled back. “Look. Just look at it.”

      Nick took the results from me and I moved back enough to run my hands through my hair, all but twirling in triumph. Whoever he was, he wouldn’t be like my Abue, who’d died two years before, but he could be a Grandpa or a Pop Pop or... Screw it. I did twirl. Dad was going to meet his dad!

      “Wow. It’s great, Dana. Really.” Nick’s voice stopped my spinning. He wasn’t exactly frowning at the papers, but he wasn’t grinning like I was either. “It’s just...”

      “Awesome is the word you’re looking for.” I pointed at the results. “Forty-seven percent! Can you believe it? You told me I’d be lucky to find someone who shared a fraction of his DNA.”

      “It’s amazing that you found this guy—”

      “My grandfather.” My voice broke imagining the reunion to come. Had I ever been this happy in my life?

      “Probably, yes.”

      I laughed out loud. “This is because it says ‘father or son’? That’s why you’re acting like you’ve got a two-by-four up your—” I bit both lips, holding back another smile and the spot-on observation I was making. “It’s okay, you can say it. The test can’t tell father from son, because both relationships share the same amount of DNA. I’ve been reading everything I could find about DNA testing since we started this thing. I know what it means.”

      Nick spoke softly. “Then you know you can’t assume he’s your grandfather.”

      “He СКАЧАТЬ