Harbinger Hall

Bobby Mullendore was sick of fifth grade, especially without his best friend, Jack B., plus it was spring. Painstakingly, key by key, jabbing hard with each of his index fingers, he typed a missive in the exact language of a certain carbon copy Jack had given him as a good-bye treasure just this past fall.

Dear Mrs. Applegate: Due to a career emergency we are moving as of 15 April, 1963. Robert will attend his last class this Friday, April 12. He will start school in North Carolina a week hence. Please accept my apologies for this short notice. It could not be helped, and we regret it.

After twenty focused, difficult minutes, after typing the "Sincerely yours" one letter at a time, Bobby pulled the curled paper from the Royal Standard, flattened it carefully, and signed his mother's name.

That afternoon, at two-fifteen, moving against the tide ...