Page 398 of Glass (Crank 2)

at best, but if I reach way,

way back, I can almost see

the lady judge, perched

like an eagle, way high above

little me. I think she was

sniffing. Crying, maybe?

Her voice was gentle. I want

to thank you, Mr. and Mrs.

Haskins, for loving this child

as he deserves to be loved.

Please accept this small gift,

which represents that love.

I don’t really remember all

those words, but Mom repeats

them sometimes, usually

when she stares at the crystal

heart, catching morning sun

through the kitchen window.

That part of Kristina’s story

always makes Mom sad.

Here’s a little more of the tale.

Chapter One

It started with a court-ordered

summer visit to Kristina’s

druggie dad. Genetically,

that makes him my grandfather,

not that he takes much interest

in the role. Supposedly he stopped

by once or twice when I was still

bopping around in diapers.