BooksBarbecue
Back Unleashed Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Front Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Contents
  5. Part One
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. Part Two
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. Part Three
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. Part Four
  35. 27
  36. 28
  37. 29
  38. 30
  39. 31
  40. 32
  41. 33
  42. 34
  43. 35
  44. Part Five
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. Epilogue
  54. Acknowledgments
  55. About the Author
  56. Back Cover

Jinx is there in a flash, his natural curiosity getting the better of him. He scurries into the top of the bag, then drags something out between his teeth. He drops it at my feet.

>>What’s this?

“Oh, that’s one of my mom’s old cookbooks.” I frown. It’s strange that she wants to throw it away. This is one of her oldest ones, filled with Post-it Note flags and annotated with little tips and reminders in her neat handwriting.

I reach into the bag and pull out more. The clink of metal I heard turns out to be several of those giant old metal-ring binders clashing together. Not at all useful for my tinkering. But I’ve never seen them before. Inside seems to be a collection of stuff from before we moved into the apartment—bills, old bank statements, and, most shockingly of all, an acceptance letter to a culinary school in Montreal.

It’s dated from a few months after we moved into Monchaville. I don’t understand. That would have meant she applied to the school while she had a job working in the Moncha telemarketing department. I can see they’d offered her financial aid as well. But why wouldn’t she have taken it? And why has she decided now is the right time to throw it all away?

It has to have something to do with the update. But for the first time, I feel uneasy. Not going to culinary school—not following her passion—must have been a decision Mom had made earlier on in her life, long before there was any update. Maybe she is happy where she is? I’m beginning to realize not everyone is like me—so desperate to follow my dreams no matter what the cost.

If the update can take away the petty stresses, make every day feel like it’s worth it, put a smile on my mom’s face—maybe, just maybe, it isn’t so bad after all?

I shake the thought from my head. Because my eye has caught on something else: letters between my mom and dad from before I was born. I can’t believe she’s throwing them away.

The letters are old-fashioned and sweet—she would treasure these, not want to get rid of them. This must be the update at work.

>>It’s even worse than we thought.