Not that his Mom would have paid much mind. His Dad, on the other hand, was a good bit more imaginative, and seemed to have some ideas about why Simon wanted to spend so much time every summer down at Gram’s, even though it was hot and humid down there. But if Simon had any concerns that his Dad might put his foot down, they ended one day when he was ten. His tenth birthday, as a matter of fact.

“Psst.” Simon’s Dad stood in the doorway to Simon’s room and looked left and right. The other kids had gone home and Simon’s Mom was downstairs cleaning some things up. Simon’s Dad had something large and square under his shirt.

Simon looked up from the Voyager model he was already trying to assemble. “Yeah, Dad?”

“I got something for you. I didn’t want to give it to you in front of your Mom. Bought it at that creepy little bookstore down the street from the office.” Simon’s Dad pulled out the package and handed it to Simon.

“The bookseller said it was cursed,” his Dad laughed nervously.