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  “You needed the sleep,” Gram said. “I sent a note with Doris telling the school you’d be absent today. I gave her Yo-Yo’s phone, too. She’ll take it to him.”

  “Why didn’t you just call the school?” Kaden asked.

  “A note works just as well and you can say what you want without interruption or questions,” Gram stated. “Get dressed and I’ll fix you some oatmeal.”

  “I’m going to take a shower first,” Kaden said.

  When Kaden got to Cabin Four, his heart lurched. Dad’s truck was parked between Cabins Four and Five. Kaden rushed to Gram’s cabin.

  “I think Dad’s back,” he said in a panicked voice. “His truck’s out there.”

  “No, don’t worry. He’s not here,” Gram said. “Yesterday morning, after you went to the tower, your dad came back saying he wanted to talk with you. I told him where you were and he walked to the tower. The truck was here yesterday when Emmett brought you home but you were so upset you just didn’t notice it. The sheriff will be coming this afternoon with a tow truck. He wants to talk with you, too.”

  “A tow truck?” Kaden asked.

  “Yes, the truck was stolen, too. Belonged to some kid going to college who left the keys under the seat. The sheriff will take the truck and all the stuff in it. He’ll have to take the gifts your dad gave us, too. He used stolen credit cards for everything. All the stuff, including the wallets and credit cards, will be used as evidence and then returned to their rightful owners.”

  Kaden walked over to the kitchen table. There was a large paper bag on it. He looked inside. In it were all his belongings from the tower but the only item he focused on was a box of matchsticks. Kaden slumped down into a chair, put his elbows on the table and his head in his hands. He had thought he had cried all he could but now he couldn’t keep tears from dropping onto the yellow plastic tablecloth.

  “Your dad told the sheriff the things in the tower weren’t stolen, they belonged to you. The sheriff left them here yesterday.”

  When Kaden didn’t look up, Gram put her hand on his shoulder.

  “I know it hurts to think about Kubla,” Gram said. She paused for a long moment before continuing. “I also know you’re disappointed in your father. I am, too. From the first time I talked with him, I was worried he’d go back to his old ways but I hoped with all my heart that he wouldn’t. I know you were hoping for better, too.”

  Kaden wiped his eyes and looked up at his grandmother. He could tell from her face she hurt as much as he did.

  “It will be hard for a while,” Gram continued. “I’m not going to lie to you. But you did the right thing. I want you to remember that.”

  “I know,” Kaden said, “but knowing something doesn’t make it any easier.”

  “No,” Gram said, giving his shoulder a squeeze, “but we’ll get through this.”

  After breakfast Kaden walked to the tower, carrying a shovel and Kubla’s body wrapped in the cloths. He buried Kubla under the tree where the shadow of the bird’s favorite limb stretched across the ground. Then he went into the weeds to collect the friendship rock and rope. They were the only things that weren’t in the bag the sheriff left.

  Back at his cabin, Kaden took a piece of plywood. He thickly spread glue all over it. Then on the board, Kaden looped the rope into the shape of a large crow. Still attached to the rope, the friendship rock sat under the bird as if the bird were standing on it. Kaden went to the bag on his bed and pulled out the box of matches. He took out a matchstick and glued it to the rope beak. When the glue dried, he would walk back to the tower and leave it as a headstone at Kubla’s grave.

  Kaden emptied the rest of the paper bag on his bed. He was putting the binoculars on his dresser when suddenly the sound of guitars and drums came through the intercom. In a second, several trumpets joined in. Kaden looked at his clock. It was exactly five minutes after the last class ended at school. Gram’s voice came over the intercom.

  “Your cell phone is making a racket,” she stated.

  “It’s Yo-Yo calling,” Kaden said. “He downloaded that ringtone for me so I would know who’s calling.” The song was repeating for the third time.

  “Well, you better come answer it,” Gram said.

  Surprised at Gram’s statement, Kaden ran from his cabin. The song had stopped playing by the time he got in Gram’s door.

  “I can call him back,” Kaden said as he reached up and got the phone Gram had put on top of the refrigerator Saturday night. When he turned around, Gram held her hand out, empty palm up.

  “Give it to me,” she said.

  Confused, Kaden put the phone in her palm. Gram put the phone on the table beside the backpack, glove, ball, MP3 player, and TV remote. Then she went into her bedroom. Kaden heard her dresser drawer open and close. Soon Gram returned to the living room. She had another phone in her hand.

  “You’ll have to give that one to the sheriff when he gets here,” Gram said. “Have Yo-Yo put his song on this one.” She handed her phone to Kaden. “I don’t want a phone, but you do.”

  “Thanks, Gram,” Kaden said. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then raced back to his cabin. When he sat down at his desk, something didn’t seem right. At first, Kaden couldn’t put his finger on it but then it dawned on him. He couldn’t hear Gram in her cabin. Not her humming, not her footsteps, not even the sound of her fan. Kaden looked at the intercoms. Neither of the little red lights was lit up. Gram had turned off both intercoms.

  Kaden started to punch in Yo-Yo’s number but then he stopped and hung up. He would call Yo-Yo later and tell him all about what had happened. But first he had another call to make. Kaden pushed the number and put the phone to his ear.

  “Emmett,” Kaden said, “do you need any help?”

  JUDY YOUNG

  Judy Young is the award-winning author of eighteen picture books, including R is for Rhyme: A Poetry Alphabet (Mom’s Choice Gold Recipient); A Book for Black-Eyed Susan (WILLA Literary Award Finalist and NAPPA Gold Recipient); and A Pet for Miss Wright (IRA-CBC Children’s Choice List). She resides in the foothills of the Bear River Range near Mink Creek, Idaho, with her husband, Ross, who once befriended a crow he named Kubla. Kubla often sat on Judy’s shoulder, pecked at her hair, and gurgled into her ear, possibly instilling ideas and inspiration for Promise, Judy’s first novel. Visit Judy at www.judyyoungpoetry.com.