“Relax, now,” said George. “I didn’t come to kill you. Don’t have any desire to. I just want all this nonsense ended, and I think maybe you could help me out a little bit. See, my daddy disappeared round about twenty-two years ago, right before I was born. Never even met the man. Hard to mourn somebody you never knew in the first place.”

“I never knew my dad either,” I said. “Don’t even know his name.”

“Well, I know my dad’s name. It’s Carl. And my whole family is convinced that your grandma is the reason he’s gone.”

“Why?” I said. “What would my grandma want with your dad?”

He shrugged. “That ain’t for me to answer. You might want to talk to your grandma about it, though, if you feel so inclined. I figure she might know something she’d be willing to share with you but not with us.” He turned to leave. “See you later, Sanford. And should you ever bump into my daddy anywhere, please kindly tell him I said hello.”

With that, George Urquhart walked back into the woods.

I watched him until he was gone.

I wondered where he lived exactly, what it felt like to be stuck just outside of a place as wonderful as the Farm. To know that it could have been yours if only your great-grandfather hadn’t been a sucker. Of course, everything George said might have been a total lie. It probably was a lie, after all.

Grandma did say they were trash.

The rain came soon after that, one of those sudden torrential summer downpours that drowns everything, snapping trees, hurling lightning all over the place, and then vanishes just as quick, like it never happened at all.

By evening Grandma was busy with dinner and Murphy and I had gone upstairs to change.

“How you feeling?” said Murphy. “You seemed pretty down earlier today.”

“I was,” I said. I thought about Cass and her song. “But I’m better now. Though I did see that Urquhart kid today.”

“What did he want?”

I thought about telling her, but something in me felt weird about it. So I just shrugged.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Just giving me shit.”

Murphy gave me a look then, one she’d been giving me a lot lately. It meant she didn’t believe me, that she was trying to figure out what I was hiding.

“Anyway,” she said, “how would you feel about taking a little trip into town tonight?”

“No way,” I said. “Grandma will kill us.”

“No, she won’t. You’re her golden boy, remember? Grandma worships you. I’m the only one she’d actually kill.”

“You’ve got to stop with that crap,” I said. “Grandma loves you. She loves us both. You know that.”