Knock Knock
Chapters (74)
- Cover
- BY ROSLUND & HELLSTRÖM
- EARLIER
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- NOW
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- PART2
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- PART3
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- PART4
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- PART5
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- PART6
- Chapter 41
- PART7
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- PART8
- Chapter 50
- PART9
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- What’s next onyour reading list?
Cover
BY ROSLUND & HELLSTRÖM
The Ewert Grens and Piet Hoffmann Series
Three Hours
Three Minutes
Three Seconds
The Ewert Grens Series
Two Soldiers
Cell 8
Box 21
Pen 33
EARLIER
Chapter 1
I’m five years old.
Almost exactly.
I know that. Five years and a few days and a few nights.
It still feels like it just happened. I was sitting at the kitchen table with Mom on one side and Dad on the other and Eliot and Julia were across from me. And I blew out five candles all at once. They were in the middle of my cake and they were red with a little blue too but only at the very, very bottom, when you looked really close.
A few days and a few nights.
I clear my throat and try to smile, like I always do when I sing. It’s my favorite song. Happybirthdaytoyooou. And if I sing it loud enough, my voice bounces off the ceiling and the walls and comes back to my open arms, where I catch it and hold on tight.
Happybirthdaytoyooou. Happybirthdaytoyooou.
When I sing, I don’t hear the TV. A kid’s show. I’ve been watching it almost all day. Just like yesterday. And the yesterday before that. I didn’t get to do that before. But I do now.
I stop singing, stand up; it’s hard to stay on the floor when my legs want to move, which they do a lot. I hop out of our living room, which is so big. I have to be careful here, the sofa is almost brand new, and the table is made of glass. If I touch it, my fingers leave smudges.
I jump all the way to Eliot’s room, where he’s sitting at his desk chair with his desk lamp on. He’s pretending to read with a book open in front of him. But he can read, I know it, he’s in second grade now. Eliot’s gotten nicer the last few days. Probably because I turned five. I’m not four anymore, I’m big now. He doesn’t even push me away from his racetrack anymore, the one he keeps high up on a shelf so I can’t reach it. And he even let me win twice with the blue car that has a yellow line on its roof. He never did that before.
I always jump on one leg. Just one leg at a time. And if I use two, I go back and do it all over again. I came up with that myself.