B003J5UJ4U EBOK by David Lubar

Life didn’t come with a backspace key.
    As his father shouted back, veins bulging in his head, Martin stormed to the front door.
    “Martin. Don’t go,” his mom called.
    “Let him go,” his dad said. “Good riddance. Let him find out what it’s like in the real world. He’ll come crawling home soon enough.”
    “He’s only fifteen,” his mom said. “We’re responsible for him.”
    “Nobody’s responsible for him. And fifteen is plenty old enough for a dose of reality.”
    There was more, but Martin rushed off, still fueled by anger, and let the words fade into the distance. He couldn’t believe what his dad had done. The phone had rung right after dinner. Martin reached for it, but his dad snatched the receiver and snarled, “Hello?” Then he frowned, glanced at Martin, and said, “Who wants to know?”
    “Is it for me?” Martin asked.
    His dad ignored him. “He’s grounded. No calls.” A second later, he shouted, “I told you, he’s grounded.” Then he slammed down the receiver.
    “Who was it?” Martin asked.
    “Nobody.”
    “You don’t have the right to do that.”
    The rest of the discussion did not go well. A moment later, just like that, he was a runaway. He didn’t even look back until he’d traveled half a block. No sign of his dad. His mom was on the porch, her hands clutching the railing while moths swooped at the light behind her. He hoped she at least wanted to chase after him. But it didn’t matter what she wanted to do. She wouldn’t step off the porch. His dad probably wouldn’t even let her call the cops.
It doesn’t matter to him that I’m underage. Doesn’t matter if I keep walking and never come back.
    Martin looked ahead to where the sidewalk blended into the darkness. How perfect. Everything in front of him was murky. The world could come to an end a mile up the road, and he wouldn’t have a clue until he got there and stepped off the edge of the earth.
    That described his future, too. Everything ahead of him seemed to be shrouded in darkness. He checked his pockets to verify what he already knew—not a dime. Not anything. All he had with him was a ton of rage and a useless talent for getting people angry.

torchie makes
a joyful noise
    “ MOM, CAN I go to camp?” Torchie asked.
    “Oh, I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Remember what happened the last time you went?”
    “I’m a lot older now. And this isn’t regular camp, so there aren’t any tents to catch fire. This is accordion camp.” Torchie pointed to the ad on the page next to the comics. “It’s in Philadelphia.”
    His mom leaned over his shoulder. “Oh my, that’s expensive.”
    “Yeah, I guess so.” In his excitement, he hadn’t noticed the price. “That’s okay. I don’t need to go.” He enjoyed staying home, especially after having to live away from home when he was at Edgeview. And he liked keeping his mom company since his dad was on the road a lot driving his truck cross-country. But for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about Philadelphia. It didn’t matter. He knew his mom was right—the camp was too expensive. And he really didn’t need music lessons. He was learning so much on his own. He could teach himself just about any instrument.
    Torchie got up from the table and grabbed his accordion.It was time to entertain the neighbors. That was his mom’s idea. Torchie remembered when he’d gotten the accordion. He’d come home from school one day in April to find the huge box sitting on the porch. He’d carried it right to the living room and opened it as fast as he could. The accordion was way bigger than it had looked in the picture on eBay, and a lot shabbier, but that didn’t matter. He gave it a squeeze. What a great sound. He started right out working on his favorite song. The accordion wasn’t just big. It was also really heavy, which made him sweat, but he didn’t mind. He sweated all the time, anyhow.
    “Philip,” his mom had called from the