Down The Wheelchair Accessible Staircase

CHAPTER 1 AND A HALF

The library on 40th Street had no books.  It had no visitors.  It had no elevator, and was not wheelchair accessible.  In fact, other than the boy living in the attic of the almost abandoned and rude to handicapped people library, no one had gone in Elmwood’s library in years.  However, Jessica Swinley was standing on the steps of the library, thoroughly confused.   She was confused because she, like every other citizen in Elmwood, had forgotten there was a library.

And then there was the large amount of money in her pocket, which was burning through to her skin.  Jessica had decided not to count how much, so as not to look shady, but it certainly was a lot.  Mrs. Leon was pretty smart for her age, but the fact that she had calculated exactly how much she owed seemed impossible.  Especially because she thought calculators were evil.

And daytime TV. 

The worst was the book.  Dirty, rotten from water damage, covered in cat fur, with missing pages; it was at least 50 years old.  Jess was refusing to even hold it.  She was carrying it in her backpack.   

Which she would be replacing later today.

 So, there stood Jessica with the money in her pocket and the book in the pack upon her back, and a boy, whose left foot was very cold, standing almost 30 feet above her.  Neither knew the other was there. 

They would soon though.   Very soon.

But I’m way ahead of myself.  Let me go back.

CHAPTER 1

          Graham had no last name, no home, no food, and for that matter, no cats.  He also did not have a left sock.  Graham hadn’t had a left sock for a while, and he was sure there was a reason why, however he couldn’t remember.  Although, Graham didn’t remember much of anything, and had no idea why.  He did know that there was insulation in this attic, which was much better than the last one.  Although the last one was wheel-chair accessible. 

            Graham told me all this when I met him, almost a year ago.  That Graham remembers.  Of course the Graham I met wasn’t named Graham.  But that is a story for another chapter.

            The last thing Graham did remember was having both socks.  He was sure his mom had put them on before he left for daycare.  But the next thing Graham knew he was laying on an empty street, without anything in his head, and only one sock on his foot.  His right foot.  That’s how Graham knew it was his left sock that was missing. 

            (In case you haven’t noticed, our dear friend Graham here has, shall we say, issues.  For example, socks don’t have a specific foot on which they go on.  Fact of the matter is Graham could’ve been wearing the left sock on his right foot the whole time! Then it would be his right sock missing.  But Graham has yet to realize this, so we will continue with the LEFT sock missing theory.)

            Even with the insulation, Graham’s foot was cold.  He guessed it must be close to the colder season.  He had never learned the kinds of things other kids learned in school; like numbers and letters, how to tie his shoes, or why it’s a cow that says “moo”, but he had learned how to make anything he could find into a meal, and how to break in to anything.  Even computers.  He also knew how to steal.  Now, that’s not to say that Graham was a robber, or villain.  He felt that life had already stolen his sock, so who would care if he stole some food?

            Anyway, his foot was cold.  And he was hungry.  And Graham was mad.  Mad because Scotty was gone. 

            Scotty had definitely been there the night before; he confirmed that with me when I sat down to talk to him.  However Graham’s memory tended to fail him often, so the poor boy had no idea whether he had made up the kid or not.