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Prologue

Tyson

(Eight Years Old)

Demons

“Oh! My God Your face What happened?” my mother screams as she rushes towards me

“Nothing,” Ia step back

She grasps ht while her eyes examine my face It’s afternoon and I can already smell the reek of alcohol on her breath “Who did this to you?” she demands

I shrug Even having her hand on my face is painful, but I don’t allow myself to flinch

“Tellwith fury

“It’s nothing”

“Tyson Friedround you for a whole week”

I stare into her eyes rebelliously Let her I don’t care if she does

“Please, Ty, tell s She knows I can never resist her when she pleads for so

“Johnny Matteson called you a whore, and said I was the son of a gyppo I punched hi jumped on me”

She blinks in shock then draws a sharp breath I see her throat work as she ss hard Releasing htens Her eyes flick away froown

On TV the music for Countdown starts It is one of her favorite shows My mother is clever and often she has the answers before the clock stops ticking Her hands shake as she flicks a lock of hair from her forehead

“Mary Mayweather o to the school touely We both know she’ll do no such thing By tonight she’ll be so drunk she’ll have forgotten the entire incident

I touch her aryppo?”

She drops to her knees, her eyes suddenly fierce She still loves hiyppo He’s a traveler A wild and beautiful gypsy”

I stare at her face curiously How transformed it is when she speaks of him “Where is he now?”

She shakes her head “It’s not important”

“Telleyes

“When you grow up I’ll tell you”

I shake my head in frustration “Why should Mary Mayweather know more about my father than me? If you don’t tell ainst the lies of Johnny Matteson and the other kids”

For a long ti Then she nods “Come,” she says, and takes me to her room It smells in mom’s room of stale sweat and alcohol She sits on the bed and pats the place next to her I positiona deep breath, she opens her drawer and pulls out an old Bible Froes she pulls out a polaroid strip One of those you get froly before she hands it to me “That’s your father”

I take it inlaughing girl who looks so full of life and vitality isin his features He has the saht blue eyes

“Does he know about me?”

“He kneas pregnant”

“Where is he now?” I gasp My voice is awed All my life I’ve wondered about my father My mother never wanted to speak of hi so I stopped asking, even though the questions burned inside me

She smiles sadly “He lives in Chertsey”

“Can we go and see him?”

Tears start rolling down her eyes “No”

I take her hand inas hers “Don’t cry, Mom Please, don’t cry” I hate to see my mother cry, but I have to know about my father I want my father to co I want her to go back to being the happy girl in the picture “Does he not want us?”

She shakes her head

“Why?” I whisper

“Because …” her voice trembles, “because … he already has another family”

My eyes widen with astonishment “Another family?” I echo

“Yes, he has a wife and children,” she sobs

“Children? He has other children”

“Yes” She closes her eyes and tries to compose herself

“How many?”

“Three boys and a girl”

“I have three half brothers and a half sister”

“Yes,” she admits

“Do they know about me?”