Page 17 of Finding Noah

So was mine.

Jay's dad, Graham Williams, was with the River Canyon Police Department, and the last time I had been at their house, I’d overheard him talking to Jay’s mom about the guy Mayor Connie Fischer had agreed to let live in our community. A big guy, his dad said. He'd just gotten out of prison—he'd been there for a long time—and Jay and I stared at each other, wide-eyed and fascinated, both of us wondering what he might've done to be locked up for so long.

“I bet he's a murderer,” I remembered Jay saying, his voice full of conspiracy and wonder.

“Connie wouldn't let someone live here if he was a murderer,” I had replied, shaking my head while thinking my best friend had lost his mind.

But when I looked out the front-door window and saw the broad back of a guy who might as well have been a giant, walking up the rickety wooden steps of the house next door, I almost swallowed my own tongue at the realization that Jay might've been right.

“Whoa,” I whispered, staring as he and the old guy he was with disappeared into the house.

He barely made it through the door!

“What?” Mom asked as she wiped down the TV screen.

“Uh, nothing,” I said, turning from the window and hurrying to the table.

“Did you see him? The guy next door?”

I dropped back into my chair and grabbed my pencil with every intention of getting back to my homework.

“Yeah, I mean … for, like, two seconds,” I muttered with forced nonchalance, trying to play it cool as I put pencil tip to paper.

I was supposed to write a poem about how my Christmas was for my English class. I had only written one line, erased it, and rewritten it six times so far in the span of a half hour. I hated English. I hated reading, and I hated writing even more. Mom said I couldn't spell to save my life. I'd been stressed about this stupid assignment for a week already, and now, after seeing the new guy next door, I was even more worried it wouldn't get done in time to turn it in on Monday.

Because how was I supposed to write a dumb poem when there was an ex-con living next door?

***

But I had written that poem—with Grandma's help because there was no way I was gonna do it myself. And I returned to school, where nobody wanted to talk about holidays or winter activities or anything other than the new guy in town.

He worked at The Fisch Market, cleaning the floors and the bathrooms, and he hit his head on the sign in the produce department.

“I was there with my mom the other day,” one of the Bush twins, Lydia, said at lunch. “He's a giant, and he's got a huge scar on his face.”

“He's got long hair, too, and tons of tattoos,” another kid chimed in.

“Lots of guys have long hair,” I muttered with a shrug. “And tattoos aren't weird.”

“Yeah, but this guy is scary,” Lydia reasoned, rolling her eyes. “He was in jail.”

“Maybe I'll see him tomorrow,” I said, taking a bite of my sandwich.

Truthfully, I had been trying hard to catch another glimpse of the giant next door since he had moved in, but I hadn't seen him. The guy's schedule must've conflicted with mine or something.

But Mom and I always went grocery shopping on Tuesdays, and since it seemed he worked every single day from morning to night, I was determined to finally get a good look at him.

And that was exactly what I did.

When we walked through the automatic doors, it was impossible to miss him mopping the floor down the bread aisle. He said hi to Mrs. Montgomery, the old lady who worked at the church. His voice was deep and a little scary, but he didn't sound mean—not like Dad—and that made me smile. But Mrs. Montgomery didn't say anything back as she hurried past him. He looked a little sad then, and that made me sad too.

“Oh my God,” Mom said with a gasp, glancing down the aisle.

“What?” I asked, angry that she would say something so … judgmental.

She gave her head a quick shake, then hurried toward the cereal aisle. “Nothing,” she said. “Come on. We have to get our shopping done.”

I did as I had been told, and while I helped her collect the groceries, I tried to catch glances of the giant as much as I could.